Bloodlust
by Immortalis
Summary: After the Tower of London incident, the Hellsing Organization and Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing are under ‘investigation’…by the Iscariot Agency. Meanwhile a shadowed organization is on the move, Millennium.
1. Of Enemies and Friends

**Hellsing: BLOOD LUST.**

**Disclaimer—**Okey-Dokey. I know I have to say this so here it goes—(clears throat) this is for the lawyers, 'I do not own Hellsing. None of it.' This is influenced by a few other Hellsing fanfics and of course, my own twisted imagination. It's sick. This is my second Hellsing fan-fiction. Looking for my first Hellsing fan-fiction? It is Musings.

So, do not hate me or flame me.

Also I plan on making this a series, instead of a one-shot. But I need reviews!! **Hint**.

I know there will be grammar mistakes. I did my best. I was more in a hurry to actually post this. Hey! I cannot be perfect all the time.

**Synopsis—**After the Tower of London incident, the Hellsing Organization and Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing are under 'investigation'…by the Iscariot Agency. Meanwhile a shadowed organization is on the move, Millennium.

Sorry if it seems rush. I figured—post it or never do it.

I welcome ideas.

Enjoy lovers.

ONE

Of Enemies and Friends.

The Falling of a Knight

South America

"At last. We can move forward with our plans for the impending war. And the war beyond that, and the next and the next," replied the round figure in the shadows. The man said it, exaggerating his gleeful triumph with the slyness of ease. After all, he was happy and he had every reason in the world to express himself. He adjusted his oversized glasses, shoving them into the proper place on the bridge of his short pudgy nose. His round beady turned to the tall and lanky individual standing next to him. "If I can possible assume that we can…Doc! Might that be remotely possible?"

Trembling, the ever-faithful subject replied in an eager tone, "Yes! Yes of course, _mein Fuhrer_—"

The man corrected stiffly, "Do not call me that."

Doc apologized, "Of course not. I will alter the staff to proceed the next phase. It will be done, Major."

"Good," the Major cooed. "That is good. Order 666 will finally be concluded. And completed."

The medical doctor nodded and stammered, "Yes. It will."

The figure purred in the dark embrace, his voice hardly able to contain the mirth of his joy. "That is excellent. I am most pleased. Thrilled." He added, touching a nerve, "Hopefully this new assembly will prove worthy—much better than your last perfection…_Incognito_. What potential wasted! I was disappointed, but then again his demise did prove somewhat useful." The Major stroked his chin. "Interesting…very interesting about this Cromwell effect. We seems we have greatly underestimated the No-Life King—regardless the game has changed to our favor."

He held a vial filled with swirling blood, the essence of the No-Life King—the Immortal Nosferatu Alucard. Vlad Tepes III. Studying it in the ill light, his nasty smile grew wider, stretching ear to ear. The expression threatened to split his cheeks. The Major peered at the blood. It was such a lovely color. So pure and so rich like a priceless ruby stone. Only one word could describe it. "Simply _prefect_…" True, the essence would be used for their own wicked, carnal purposes. "Than proceed, Doc…after all, the world is waiting—the innocent and ignorant masses are waiting for us. I want _war_! War! I want to hear the music."

The Captain remained silent, as he always does.

A boy with cat-like ears approached. "Any other orders, Major?"

"I have one piece of the puzzle…and I need is one more." His surrounding minions advanced eagerly, patiently waiting. He answered wolfishly, "The Master of the Monster…Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing."

OoO

Forever Artemis. 

The Tower of London

Basement, Cell 33

4:46 am

The No-Life King, the Nosferatu Alucard whispered with his voice close to breathlessness, "_Integra_…" His Master, Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing gave him a cold, hard and blank stare. He corrected himself, not using such an informal and personal introduction, "My _Master_..."

"Give me an order…" Without warning he enclosed his fist around the wineglass, shattering it. Droplets of unholy crimson-blood, thick as priceless rubies oozed from the superficial wounds, staining his infamous Hellsing-Seal gloves. In a tantalizing and deliberate fashion the beads fell, decorating the dungeon-floor with a blooming scarlet rosette. Alucard extended his hand towards her, making a humble and silent offering of his blood to her, the gift and damnation of the Undead Life. Her fierce and passionate sapphire-stone eyes studied the blood drops with intense consideration, and a mischievous chuckle escaped him. She was tempted, he could see it in her eyes and smell it on her virginal skin. The laugh rumbled low in his throat, echoing off the walls. "Remember, the choice is yours…"

A rare-seen smile crossed her lips. Integra made a bemused sound and smirked doubtfully. "The choice is mine." Smiling gleefully like a spoiled schoolboy, Alucard advanced. Her expression hardened, as it always does in his presence. She challenged coldly, "Why don't you just read my thoughts?"

He smiled; it was a terrible thing to witness. Alucard cooed seductively, "I have."

"I have your order…." Alucard waiting, anticipating her command. Integra turned mellow, casting her eyes to the side and away from his fervent eyes and from the bloody temptation. Pride and duty would be her downfall and her untimely demise. "Check up on Walter's status and Seras Victoria's location."

Alucard smirked and answered in a bored flat tone, "Walter is well, nothing but a laceration on the head. He broke his bifocal. Seras Victoria is with me at Hellsing manor. Naturally, still a childe. Police-Girl has a taste for birds." Integra remembered, since the Tower of London the Medical supply had be forestalled. It left the two vampires searching for their own blood supplies. "Walter will be released."

Integra breathed a sigh of relief. She mumbled a prayer, thanking God.

The No-Life King offered his hand again. He purred with sadistic wickedness, "Give me _your _order, my _Countess._"

She glared at the wild, flaming and bloodthirsty red eyes. "Refrain using that title with me. I am not a little girl anymore." The Countess title started as a joke when she was younger, and Alucard was thrilled to oblige into the childish game—he was the dragon, she was the Iron Maiden and he was the Knight and she was the Countess. _Sweet innocence_.

"You will always be that little girl."

The Hellsing Heir disregarded him.

Nevertheless Alucard refused to be ignored. "Come Integra…" Hypnotized, under some deviant and unnaturally spell, all notions of rebellion and rejection diminished. A milky-film glaze coated her eyes. Subconsciously she stood to her feet, ambling towards him and his outstretched gift. Locks of silvery strands danced wildly in some unseen wind. The room darkened and the eyes of his daemon, the Hellhounds filled the room. "Make your choice. Follow me without fear into the darkest gloom." There was something so inviting in his rich tone, and she did not falter. "The choice will always be yours _Integra_, my _Love_, my _Master_."

Alucard toyed, playing with a strand of her silvery mane and his eyes lowered to her lapel. He licked his lips, displaying his eager fangs. With his bloodstained hand, the No-Life King cupped her cheek and the crimson-fluid smudged at the corner of her parted mouth. "Just a lick."

Integra blinked out of the Dreamworld, as the Hellsing Seal broke the spell.

His moment of triumph was cruelly interrupted as Integra removed her cigar from her mouth and twisted the smoldering end into his flesh. The tissue singed, scorching it charcoal black. He remained silent. A malicious grin twitched his lips and an elongated fang nudged his lower lip, stroking against the sensitive skin. "Remove your hands." Her voice was cold and Alucard grinned, his long tongue wrapped around his wounds and suckled on them.

She hissed sharply, "I am still your Master. I wear the trousers in this relationship."

"Indeed," he mused. "But let me know if you ever desire to lift the skirt."

Integra turned her back on him. He could smell her scent—cigars and lavender. It was a mixture of authority and femininity. _Interesting combo. _"You know my answer, _slave_. That is my choice. My patience is wearing thin, vampire. Stop this silly nonsense. I refuse to repeat myself."

Alucard glazed uninterested at his marred flesh. "Forever the _Artemis_, Integra…" The wounds were now healed. Integra adjusted her collar, closing the tie closer around her throat. His nostrils flared, since even through the articles of clothing Alucard would smell the Hellsing blood wafting in the air. He closed his fluttering eyes, humming in pleasure. _Intoxicating. _

Integra still had her back facing him, flatly ignoring him. A growl of frustration escaped his throat and he stepped closer, advancing. He did not touch her as Alucard leaned in, sniffing the nape of her neck. Whispering he promised, "I shall have you, Integra. You will come to me…and you will _scream_—but in pleasure or pain, that remains your _choice_."

God, her blood froze and then boiled at the remark. "That is not day."

"No it is not," he confessed disappointedly. "But perhaps tomorrow, _Artemis_."

OoO

**Released with a Price. **

Tower of London

Two hours later.

Integra sat, reclined on the cot, hands folded behind her head and eyes slightly closed. She was not asleep, merely resting herself. Alucard's visit had drained every ounce of self-control from her and his boldness had matured, almost to a threatening level. It wouldn't be the first time, and frankly she doubt that it would be the last. The Hellsing Seal was not breaking; it was just simply—Alucard. It was him, plain and simple. Relentlessly testing her. Challenging her. "_Give me an order. The choice is yours." _The blood offering weighted heavily against her. It was not the offering that was disturbing, but rather than that Alucard had read her mind. He knew her thoughts.

And Integra would not deny anything. It was too late.

Countess… 

She smirked to herself.

_Forever the Artemis, Integra. _

What an interesting analogy. Artemis, the Virgin Huntress.

There was a knock at the heavy doors.

Integra replied sharply, "Come in."

The two royal guards entered, spears in hand and beaver-hats wiggling on their oversized heads. The men were complete physical opposites of each other. "Miss Hellsing you have a visitor." It was a thin lanky individual, sitting in a carbon-steel wheelchair. His graying hair was sleeked back. Calm chocolate eyes glazed out from spectacles sitting low on the fat bridge of his nose. The door slammed behind him. "Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing." In the limits of his wheelchair, the man gave the slightest and modest of nods. Otherwise he would have stood to his feet and bowed. "I am—"

Integra reached her feet. "I know you are Dr. Malcolm Charles Thayer." The man blinked in shook and then smiled. "I believed you worked with my father."

Dr. Thayer gave a ghostly smile. "Yes indeed, but that was many years ago. Practically a lifetime ago—before my," his voice faltered in his throat as he studied his useless legs and the wheelchair, "well…before my accident."

Indeed.

Due to his untimely accident, Dr. Thayer had been pressed by the Royal Order to proceed to the only avenue left to a man of his condition—Retirement. He retired and currently was a Member of Parliament. However, he refused to abandon his gift. He was a Master of weapons, both biochemical and warfare—regarding vampires and werewolves, not humans.

This crippled man was responsible for Mary-Tears, the liquid-silver bullets, 13mm Armor-piercing explosive rounds, mercury charged tips and even the design of the 30mm Anti-Midian Harkonnen Cannon. It was rumored that he constructed the Angel of Death's instrument of destruction, the razor wires and even the Casull, and the Jackal. Nevertheless the truth remained to be seen.

Regardless, he refused to allow his physical incapable to waver him.

He waved his thoughts aside. "Please my dear, sit down. There's no need to stand for a cripple old man. I know your manners are proper and well; however, I am here professionally. I am a messenger from the Queen and the Royal Order. By order of her Majesty, the Queen of England and by the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, you have been released…but with a price."

"I am not pardoned." Integra noted, understanding the bitterness of the situation—it sucked! Fucking and royally sucked. Nevertheless, in spite of the unpleasantness, the Iron Maiden contained her composure. "I see Dr. Thayer, however, I must inquire—what _is _the price of such amnesty?"

"You will be released. Returned to the Hellsing manor. Walter Dornez will accompany you." He licked his lips. "It has been discussed—"

She demanded sharply, "_Just_ tell me."

"You are removed from the Royal Order. And no longer a Protestant Knight."

Surprisingly, the removal of her knighthood did not hurt as much as she expected, but it left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Hastily she recalled the Queen's words, "_These are times that test the soul, Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing…Stand strong through this—and find solace that in the morning your Judas shall be punished…Remember, her Majesty's prayers are with you. _Indeed. Stand strong through this. Such words of comfort were overrated. Nothing of the sort had happened—nothing but broken promises and disappointments. "The Hellsing Organization is under investigation. Permanent investigation."

No doubt, Abraham Van Hellsing was rolling in his grave.

"Truly," she said bitterly. "And pray tell who—or what will be investigating the Hellsing Organization? MI-6? Or the SAS?"

Dr. Thayer shrugged his shoulders. "That I do not know."

Integra noted sadly, "I see. My Judas has not been captured and silenced."

"No. The Investigation has not wavered." Sir Integra refused to look at him. "You look like your mother, Sir Hellsing…if I may say so—but you have your father's eyes. You're strong. The Queen knows this."

She blinked at this remark. It was odd and out of place. Few people had complimented Integra's look, it wasn't that she was beautiful but rather that she was a cold and distant person. People were slightly intimidated, and in addition many members of British society opposed Arthur's marriage to Parvati Ramayania. She was a foreigner, not English. "I have the feeling that's not all the Queen wishes to tell me," she inquired.

"Listen. Even these walls have ears." Dr. Thayer grabbed her hand. He whispered in a low tone, "Listen. There is some strange force at work here, some shadowed organization. The Queen expresses to you—Listen this has not been discussed at the commission between the Queen and the Royal Knights. A secret. You understand?"

Integra nodded. She was professional at secrets, the Hellsing Organization being one of them.

"The situation is much more complicated. The Queen has tied hands. She has done all that she can, given the circumstances." Dr. Thayer asked, "I understand that Alucard was able to retrieve information from that White Demon?"

"Incognito. Yes. Indeed. Alucard has his methods of persuasion." The smile could have come to her face for any reason, but remembering Incognito's body impaled caused her much glee, much joy. _May the bastard rest in Hell. _

"What was the word?"

"I suspect it was a name…_Millennium_."

An expression came to his face.

He whispered fiercely, "You have been removed from your duty, but you are permitted to perform your own private investigation—but do not draw intention to yourself." Dr. Thayer licked his lips nervously. The man added in a hot warning, "Keep Alucard on a tight leash. Nothing loud."

She smiled.

Alucard said in her mind, "_How quaint! Fallen but not yet broken._"

OoO

**Uninvited Guests**.

Hellsing Headquarters.

Private property of the Hellsing estate.

Two weeks later.

12:34am

Removed of her knightly duty, there was little joy that the 'normal, ignorant and innocent' world had to offer the recently fallen Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. Or at least—nothing, but disappointment and rage, following the memories of broken-promises and betrayal. No doubt she did conclude her own private investigation, but every possible lead was a dead-end. But, hope was not yet lost and Hellsings are not the giving-up type. The answer to the Millennium riddle might be in the head of a vampire residing in London, at a local Blood-Bar. It was Marius Von Montague. Integra and Alucard planned to interrogate him the day after tomorrow. They waited for the cover of night.

In the meanwhile she acted like any _normal _aristocrat lady.

_Whatever that meant_.

Hellsings did not live normal lives.

Walter and Seras helped in the best ways that they could possibly manage. The Queen insisted it and naturally Integra obeyed, attending a few knighting ceremonies, watching polo games and sod-races. She had even dressed up in a large sun-hat and white knee-length dress that Walter picked out. She hated it—the dress, the oversized hat, laced gloves and sandals. She couldn't even conceal her Glock .45 under it, because it was too bulky and too dark. It was her own personal hell, complete with the men watching and the women whispering. Alucard loved it. Duchness Dominique Wallingford remarked, "Miss Integra, how trim and proper you look! It is the vision of a true English woman. This is an exercise that I wish to see long repeated."

So here she was, dressed in a button-down and vest, tight tan-riding slacks and knee-length deerskin boots, and sitting on her Spanish steed. The Heir of Hellsing studied the foothills, woods and lands of the Hellsing estate and extending private property. This was unsuspicious behavior.

The British New Channel at Jordan Tower were not so kind, constantly pacing up and down at the Hellsing Gates, asking questions and demanding an interview. The Tabloids were even worse, climbing into the trees and trespassing. Once Alucard took the form of a dog, chased a photographer and bit him on the rear. The man screamed, landing himself in the hospital. The No-Life King came back with a shred of trousers in his mouth. "_Pet me, Master. Am I not faithful_?"

Tomorrow would be another sod-race and the Duchess had invited her. The vile woman could not take no for an answer, so she was obligated to attend. _Bloody Hell. _Walter would attend the event with her, and if not, Alucard offered. That was not a wise idea, but an Englishwoman; especially an aristocratic lady did not present public or private events alone. It was highly improper.

At least she had the night to practice her Hellsing duty, but only in secret.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, the sound of a hundred thundering hoofs. The wind became harsher, tossing and turning the leaves and her silvery mane wildly in the unseen and even violent current. The horse grunted staring around and flicking his ears back threatening. He grunted, alarmed.

A helicopter.

It emerged over her head bearing towards the Hellsing mansion with a loud and defining roar. The started steed reared up but Integra remained firmly fixed in the saddle. It flew over the trees and plains with only a foot of clearance. The helicopter ignored the Hellsing rider and continued towards the headquarters of the fallen Hellsing Organization. From the close distance Sir Integra would make out several characters sitting at the open window, but one person caught her complete attention, fueling anger and distrust.

There was a symbol on the side of the helicopter…the roman-numerals of ten and three, separated only by a cross—Iscariot. "Vatican Section XIII, the Iscariot Agency." Narrowing her icy-blue eyes into slits, Sir Integra pulled on the reins and buried her heel deep into her steed's ribs. Giving out a cry of protest the hot-blooded Spanish-steed turned and raced after the helicopter.

Faster and faster…but flesh isn't any match for steel.

When rider and steed reached the landing pad, the occupants of the Iscariot helicopter had left and preceded into the house. Sir Integra followed; striping off her riding gloves and twisted them in her grip.

The look on her face was a vision of Hell itself.

And in the basement the No-Life King woke with a start.

OoO

**Tea is for Guest, the Door is for Intruders. **

Hellsing Headquarters

Library of the Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing

12:46am

Butler and former trash-man of the Order of Royal Protestant Knights, Walter C. Dornez approached the uninvited agents of Iscariot, and in spite of the unrest between Hellsing and the Vatican House; the Butler remained modest and respectable. He was waiting for them at the launch pad and directed them to the library so they would wait for the Mistress of the house. They exchanged formal and even direct introductions. The agents of Iscariot sat down in the comforts of the cushioned chairs and whispered fiercely to each other.

Anderson pouted, "This is ridiculous."

"Quit your whining." The Director of Iscariot turned the page of the London Inquirer with great interest. The main-headline read, "_Hellsing released. Investigation impending_,"—there was a photo of Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing escorted by two royal British guards. She appeared defiant and proud as always. The other photos showed her at recent aristocratic events, dressed trim and proper. Maxwell stoked her face with his index finger, smudging the print. "Enhance your calm, Alexander. Remember, old friend that we are under orders from his Holiness the Pope. It is a great honor, I might add."

Heinkel Wulf smirked, murmuring to herself, "Or an insult."

Yumiko exchanged looks with her fellow sister. She couldn't really argue with her; after all they dealt with assassinations, not investigations.

"Ridiculous! I will not enhance me calm. This is serious, Director." Anderson inched closer and whispered fiercely, "Assigned to Hellsing is an offense. What are ye doing? Two virgin ladies under the same roof as the No-Life King, the Nosferatu Alucard! Have ye gone mad? Tell me has ye hatred for Hellsing clouded ye judgment."

With a suspicious brow the silver-haired man challenged, "Father Anderson, are you questioning my motive?"

"No. I am questioning ye sanity."

Touched he replied cynically, "I am mentally well—besides Heinkel and Yumiko can handle themselves. They are members of Iscariot. _God is with us_. We shall be victorious."

True, Iscariot were the messengers of the divine punishment. _If God is with us, then who can be against us? _"Indeed." Anderson shimmered down, since his faith calmed him. It relaxed him, almost a mother soothing her crying babe. The Judas Priest noted, "Sir Integra remains untouched—unravished."

Maxwell choked. "You honestly believe all that rubbish about her purity…" Behind the newspaper he raised a suspicious brow, peering at Anderson. The notion intrigued him. "The Iron Maiden…or even the Virgin Protestant Knight?"

The Judas Priest confessed meekly, "Something tells me that Alucard would prefer his women willingly, not forced." Maxwell frowned. The impression wasn't comforting.

Walter came again. "Gentlemen…" he paused, noticing Yumiko Takagi and Heinkel Wolfe, Walter added meekly, "and young ladies, might I interest you in a cup of tea?"

Father Renaldo wrinkled his nose and asked, "Where is the Mistress of the house, Integra Hellsing?"

"As I have said, 'the Madame is out.'"

Director Maxwell touched his arm, stopping him. "Calm yourself, Father Renaldo. Be patient. There is time."

Walter lifted the tray and asked, "Tea, anyone?"

Anderson refused, stoking the handle of his blessed blade. He studied the room, apparently, as if, he expected the Nosferatu Alucard to appear. His eyes never left his surroundings. Yumiko smiled big, looking at the butler and eagerly accepted a cup. Heinkel merely ignored him, since her eyes remained on Anderson. There was a sad expression on her face.

The Director replied in his heavily-accented voice, "A cup of Russian tea with lemon would be most pleasing, Angel of Death."

Walter did not respond to his former title.

"_NO! I think not_." At the entrance of the Hellsing Library stood THE Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. She threw aside her riding gloves and advanced. The heavy metallic clicks of her heels announced her. The white and mud-spattered trench coat followed her like a second shadow. Silvery stands wisped around as if trapped by the harsh current in her long stride. "Tea is for guests. The door is for intruders."

The man protested sweetly, "_Miss_ Hellsing. You must not be so hasty…so terribly rude—And this will certainly not do. It seems you _still_ hold such a grudge."

It was Maxwell.

And Father Renaldo…

A snort escaped her. Hateful, wicked man! Her eyes contracted into slits, narrowing on the white priest-collar beneath his chin. It was such a deceiving symbol. Maxwell was _not _a man of God, but a pervert, a sick, demented and power-hungry sap. He was the Director of Section XIII the Iscariot Agency, the top-secret wing of the Vatican—second only to his Holiness, the Pope. "I have business with you."

She gritted down on her cigar, nearly splitting it down the middle. Integra tucked it behind her ear. Walter retrieved a cup for the Hellsing Heir and sat it down on the desk with milk and sugar. She left it there, sitting untouched.

Integra shook her head disdainfully when she noticed Anderson and two women, one dressed as a nun and the other as a priest. She demanded coldly, "Director Enrico Maxwell, head of the Iscariot Agency. Pray inform me, to what do I owe the pleasure from your _unsought _and _uninvited presence_?"

He cooed, "My child, I have come for your _confession_."

Confession? "_What_?" Integra blinked. "Repeat that."

A Catholic Priest, a Holy Bible and a Rose-Mary were the instruments of the Vatican faith. Maxwell held them against his blacken and ambitious heart. Section XIII, the Iscariot Organization disguised as humble messengers had come to hear her sins, pleas of mercy and begs for amnesty. Integra would never be tempted by such an innocent diversion. "I am here for your confession…_heretic _and _traitor_."

Sniveling little leech.

A huff escaped her parted lips but she was determined to be civil, so the Knight replied in the kindest of tones, "You forget _Father _Maxwell—I am Protestant, not Catholic." Integra added grimly, "Besides I have nothing to confess."

Maxwell smiled. It was an uncomfortable expression to witness. He said fatherly and almost sympathetically, "Nothing! _Nothing_ weights trouble on your most unworthy soul, my child? Do not falter from the path of righteousness. This is the time to find solace in the Lord. Cleanse yourself. Repentance is at hand."

Integra snapped hotly, "Maxwell. I warn you—get to the point. And quickly. I have patience but it runs deadly thin. Speak! Before I fetch my _pet _on gnaw on your throat."

He paled and searched the room. Anderson leaped to his throat with his blades in hand.

"I merely have to make the slightest hint of my wish. He is eager to please."

The shadow beside Integra physically withdrew revealing orange-shades, a Cheshire-cat grin, black inky hair, fedora hat and blood-red trench coat—The No-Life King, Nosferatu Alucard. Anderson stiffened, gripping on his blessed blades. Yumiko and Heinkel reached for their guns but Maxwell waved them off. The vampire leaned against Sir Integra, burying his nose against her earlobe and whispered lusty, "Surely… Master you would not subject me to such tainted and spoiled Vatican blood. I have better taste than that." Inside her head he cooed, _I sought yours. _One hand rested on her shoulder. The motion was almost protective, if not possessive.

Integra did not bat an eye. "I did not give you permission to express yourself. Silent your tongue."

Maxwell stood to his feet. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss business in private." The Hellsing Heir defiantly crossed her arms. "Just between us. I have a message from the Queen herself. The Pope as well."

"Bollocks," Alucard leered.

The Director gave an honest smile and struggled his shoulders. He said meekly, "Allow me a word."

The vampire laughed. "A word? I daresay, I think you need a prayer. Get down on your knees and start begging."

Maxwell glared at him, "I have business with the _Mistress _of Hellsing." His eyes followed down her neck, studying the bandages beneath the silk riding-blouse—just a shirt and a tank top. His eyes lowered. A growl interrupted his unholy thoughts. Soon the Director of Iscariot found himself staring down the barrel of the Jackal and the Casull! _Eyes off her! I know your thoughts, Maxwell._ "I am going to take great pleasure in putting air inside your skull, _Father_." Walter placed a hand on Alucard's arm and lowered the gun. The Angel of Death shook his head.

"Later, Alucard."

Anderson stood in front of Maxwell. Yumiko and Heinkel followed in suit, guns and sword in hand.

Integra snarled against his earlobe, "That is enough Alucard." Reluctantly Alucard holstered his weapons. She turned to face the Vatican Director. "A moment is all you have, Mr. Maxwell. I am here at your disposal. Just you and me. No bodyguards—that includes Father Anderson."

"Or your pet," leered Maxwell. He glared at Alucard.

Integra agreed.

OoO

Disobedience 

Hellsing Manor,

Main office of Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.

Together Integra Hellsing and Enrico Maxwell entered the confinements of her private office. Neither sat down at the open chairs, since the tension was too concentrated between them. It was like thick and black smoke. "Lovely office, _Miss_ Integra Hellsing. Quite charming. Your contractor managed to fix it nicely after the Valentine Brother invasion. I hope their efforts were praised." He touched the wall and studied the painting of her father, Sir Arthur Fredrick Wilson Hellsing. She had her father's blond-silver hair and blue eyes, but every other physical quality came from her mother, the Indian princess Parvati Ramayania.

Their union was forged for political relations, not love.

Regardless Parvati and Arthur respected and honored each other, even so that after her death the Hellsing Knight refused to remarry. Arthur refused the requests of the Queen and the Royal Order, even his friend and comrade Sir Islands. Perhaps love had forged later in the marriage.

To Maxwell, she was still a heathen.

A pagan.

It was rumored that Arthur allowed one room dictated as a shrine to her gods and goddess. The room was in the South end of the Hellsing manor, the wing closest to India. At night the room would smell like incense and lotus bosoms.

"They were paid well." Integra sneered, but replied sweetly, "Director Maxwell, you have but a moment. I advise you to use it."

"No. I will not keep you any longer than what is necessary so…" He paused savoring the moment, "His Grace, Holiness the Pope wishes to give you his regard. The Vatican is concerned, especially with your unfortunate circumstance with the Baobhan Sith—it must have been traumatizing…as well as your surgery." Maxwell reached into his jacket and pulled out a yellow-dyed rose. A _rose. _He placed it on the desk, next to her hand. The Italian man jeered, "A token of our best wishes…"

Integra inched away from the object. She remembered their session at the British War Museum. A dry laugh escaped her lips and she replied darkly, "Yellow. You are fond of the color, Maxwell."

He struggled. "One could see it as a friendly gesture. It is the color of friendship, you know."

She wanted to roll her eyes but she resisted against the urge. Integra noted, "I would hardly call us friends, Father Maxwell."

The Judas Director merely gave a leechlike smile, shoving the rose closer to her hand. Something crossed her face. He frowned, slightly confused by her retreating steps. Maxwell joked sweetly, "Surely you are not afraid of a flower, Miss Integra? It is armless. It may be a humble gift from Iscariot, but I can assure you that it is not poison."

Integra said, "I am not fond of roses."

_Truly_! This bemused Enrico Maxwell and he whispered softly, "_Red Rose Vertigo_." He blinked, snapping out of it. The priest cleared his throat and continued, "In addition the Pope offers his condolences to your dead men and at your recent _fallen from grace_. It's a shame."

Placing her hand over her heart she replied with sarcasm, "I am touched."

Maxwell grinned, the gloating smile stretching ear-to-ear on his waxy face. "That is not all. There are more pressing matters between Hellsing and Iscariot, and that it why my presence has been summoned. Trust me, I take no pleasure being here."

Integra smirked. She grabbed a cigar, scratched the match on her spur and lit it. The Hellsing Heir breathed in the fumes and waved him on. "Pray continue…"


	2. Feuding Houses

Hellsing--Bloodlust 

**Disclaimer—**I hate doing this, but it must be done. I do-not-own-Hellsing. That honorable pleasure belongs to Mr. Kohta Hirano, not me.

Notes—Hello. I am back folks. Thank you for all the reviews, so please give me more. Ha. I also wanted to thank you all for your patience. I wanted at least a week before I posted the next chapter and besides I had some sensitive family issue to attend. This chapter was fun. I hate Maxwell and I love to hate him. It's healthy, you know. 

**Synopsis—**As the Hellsing House adjusts with Iscariot invading on their home turf… the intension between them escalates. War begins to erupt.

This one is slightly short. I promise that the next one is longer. More intense.

TWO

Feuding Houses 

--London, England

--The Hellsing Agency Headquarters

--Subbasement of the Hellsing estate

--Alucard's dominion

--1:15pm

What ill luck!! 

"Iscariot _here_?" Seras whispered in a soft voice. Her wide crimson-blood eyes stared at Walter and Alucard. Together they gave her blank expressions, as if her worries and concerns did not trouble them but rather bored them. The No-Life King yawned. She huffed a short and humorous laugh. "No. No, you are horrible liars." Walter raised a brow and stiffly crossed his arms. "_You're not lying._ OH! But Integra hates Iscariot, especially Maxwell. You can smell the hatred from them."

"Sir Integra is under specific orders," explained Walter. "Actually _all _of us are."

She frowned. "_What_? I don't get it." Seras stepped forward and placed a concerned arm on his shoulder. Her red eyes spelled trouble. "Walter…whatever is going on? Hellsing was released and Integra pardoned."

"Not quite, Miss Victoria." Walter pulled away, taking her hand and holding it a moment too long. "The Hellsing Organization is under investigation."

Blinking Seras smirked. "By Iscariot? That's hardly what I call a _fair trail_."

Alucard chuckled. He sat down at his chair, toying the glass of blood sitting on the arm by tracing the rim with his index finger. The No-Life King seemed rather bored with the turn of events, but, in truth, he was not the least surprised. _Iscariot and Hellsing under the same roof. This shall be interesting. Very intriguing. _Regrettably his behavior would be monitor by his master, the fallen Sir Integra Hellsing. No more late night-talks between the Master and the Monster, instead there would nothing more than religious scriptures and examination. _How incredibly dull. _At least Anderson was present, and smiling Alucard would taste the battles yet to come.

Integra would be extremely cautious, especially with the new threat Maxwell carried around. If Integra refused to cooperate with the Vatican authorities, the Protestant maiden would be deprived of her eggs and then become sterile through surgery. Better than yet, Maxwell would father the proceeding Hellsing heir. _What a sad child. Hellsing needs a strong heir to master me. _It was truly pathetic. _Cocky Catholic bastards! _Father Maxwell was relishing the taste of power. He loved it and like a drug, the Director craved more.

Much more.

Walter had come down to share the news, waking Alucard from his slumber. Actually he was already awake. Inside his beloved coffin the Nosferatu had sensed a familiar essence enter the Hellsing manor—that vile Catholic warthog Enrico Maxwell and his Vatican-whipping boy, Father Alexander Anderson. He felt that Integra was in the library. The vampire would have to pay a visit soon. _That will be enjoyable, if not suicidal. _Her anger was like liquid fire, an intoxicating drug and as sweet as her blood.

Beside him his fledging chewed on her nails.

Seras's nervousness was just plain annoying.

_Perhaps Anderson's threats will coax her out of it. _

A voice interrupted his thoughts, "Alucard?"

He raised an inky black eyebrow and hummed.

"Were you not listening?"

"Partly," he confessed. "Not really."

Seras leaned on his shoulder and inquired, "Master. Are you not concerned about Iscariot? I mean, at least worried about them?"

Alucard took a sip of his blood, a bit disappointed at its favor. The renewal of the Hellsing Seals had been greatly postponed due to Integra's surgery, recovery and the Tower of London incident. "No. In fact Police-Girl I am looking forward to it."

Police-Girl watched the glass and pulled her eyes away from it. She whispered softly, "You would."

Walter closed his eyes, shook his head and warned, "Sir Integra wants you on your best behavior." _Goody. _"She means it. No death threats, no suggestive comments and no battles with the Paladin." _Or at least none that she has to know about. What she doesn't know, cannot kill her. _

"I thought the Judas at the Round Table was silenced," noted the young vampire, furrowing her brow.

The old Butler heaved a sigh. He struggled his shoulders and replied plainly, "He was not discovered. It has been concluded that the Judas lies within Hellsing."

Seras raged. "Bollocks!"

The Butler rolled his eyes, since she was such a drama-queen. Walter wondered if she ever participated in any school plays or musicals. Seras was constantly fidgeting. _What a nervous wreak_. The Angel of Death never did get a pleasing answer from Alucard—why on earth did he make her into a vampire? It was too whimsy, even for him. _Too human._ "Miss Victoria, please calm yourself."

In defeat, Victoria lowered her shoulders. "Hellsing is being framed. Poor Sir Integra. She must feel so abandoned."

_I don't think that it's abandonment she feels. More like rage._

Alucard grinned darkly.

Walter adjusted his new bifocal. "Miss Victoria you must understand something. During its existence, the Hellsing Organization has gathered many enemies, many within our own ranks—including Iscariot and some members of the Royal Order. Even Parliament."

"Sounds like my old high school. Everyone backstabbing each other." Alucard smiled at that. He wondered how she fit in at school. _A prep, or a nerd? Was that the lingo now a day? _She licked her lips and asked in a soft voice, "What about _our _investigation? I mean with Iscariot here—"

Alucard answered, "We just have to be even more cautious."

The Angel of Death nodded. "That's our remedy—caution and precision. The plan at the Blood Bar is on scheduled regardless of what happens form here on. It starts that day after tomorrow." Walter paused and then added in a softer tone, "Alucard. Integra wants to see you at 2:30 sharp…renewal of the bonds." The No-Life King heaved a pleasurable sigh and he licked his chops, drooling at the thought.

His precious and yet annoying fledging interrupted his thoughts.

"**No. Oh no!** This is bad! Very bad!" Seras blurted, "Captain Bernadette doesn't know." _Crap-knuckles. He's French and has a short tempter. _"Neither do the Wild Geese."

Alucard smiled and purred. "Not for long."

Relief came to her. "Good. Who's going to explain to him?"

Her Master purred wickedly, "Why…_you_ are Police-Girl."

"WHAT?"

"I think you need some alone time with the Frenchman. You two aren't 'getting along.' I think you will find him and the Wild Geese down in the subbasement. Most likely at the armory. They still want to test of their equipment at sunset. Preparing for the day after tomorrow."

Walter smirked. "Maxwell won't be thrilled about the fireworks."

Alucard loaded a chamber into his gun. "The Devil with Maxwell. I'll deal with the Paladin."

Walter stopped him, "NO you won't. 'No battles with the Paladin.' Sir Integra is serious. She gave me a supply of silver and garlic, so if you disobey, I will lace your blood with them. Don't think that I won't. 'Until the Blood-Bar you are merely an ever-obedient and house broken pet. Forever eager to please your Master. Obey,' those are her exact words. Integra will explain that the Wild Geese are privately employed _simply_ for protection. The Hellsing vampires have no duty involving ghouls or supernatural threats."

Police-Girl rolled her eyes and remarked under her breath, "Basically we are unemployed."

The Butler continued, "And all SAS and MI-5 agents have been dismissed from the estate."

"That's as fair as any lie." Alucard looked at Seras and cried out, "_Police-Girl!_ Get moving. Find Captain Bernadette and the Wild Geese. Tell them everything—Iscariot and the Blood Bar. You know what to do. Don't give me that look. I'll chew it off. MOVE!!!"

She raced out of the room towards the armory. Seras could hear his rambling laughter. "I love this…I love war and chaos!! Don't you Master, my Countess?"

OoO

After a while she stopped running and walked. "Balls! That is crap! Totally _unfair_. It's unfair!!" Seras Victoria stormed through the corridor. She rarely cursed and whenever she did, it sounded terrible. Her scarlet eyes fumed enraged. In spite of her undead status her cheeks flushed. _Report and inform Captain Pip Bernadette and the Wild Geese about Iscariot. _What? When did she become a messenger? An errand dog? An animalistic growl rumbled from her throat. Wasn't that what a Butler was for? No. That was too cruel. Walter was good man, not a slave. Alucard was a slave.

Behind her four shadowed figures emerged from the darkness and studied the raging vampire with some interest. Police-Girl lifted a fist towards the ceiling and yelled, "I hope you can hear me Master. You suck! Completely suck, I mean that _literally_!!"

She paused and waited. No answer. _Of course not, you silly thing. He's not going to reply._ "I really don't like you right now, Master."

A voice whispered in her mind, "_Deal with it._"

Master Alucard. There was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Seras whispered, "I hope Integra fills your head with silver."

"_No doubt she will. By the way I love your spunk! It's about time!_"

Seras clenched her knuckles turning them white.

Still the figures approached.

"Go to Hell!"

His laughter rumbled from the walls of her head. "_Been there, done that. I rather found it quiet lovely._"

Police Girl covered her hand over her ears. "I can't hear you. Blah…blah. Yadda. Yadda." She jumped up and down. "I can't hear you. I can't hear you. I can't hear you."

An Irish voice purred behind her. "Well…well isn't it the wee Draculina."

Seras knew that voice anywhere and she wished that she was dreaming. No. This was reality. The sound and presence of it filled her with mortal dread and pure terror. Seras stopped and turned around very slowly. Sure enough it was Anderson the Paladin. The Judas-Priest was leaning against the dungeon wall, arms defiantly crossed and one eyebrow raised. He had that terrible smile on his handsome face and he literally looked like a mad-priest.

She groaned, "It's you…" Seras cleared her throat and replied jokingly, "Blast! I have such ill luck."

His smile vanished. "Indeed, you Hellsing-dog."

_Just like old times. _"You know, your insults are pretty old. I don't call you names, so do me a favor and extend me the same courtesy."

Anderson hissed, "Not in a thousand years, heathen. In fact before this dilemma is over, I plan on burying you and your Master. Iscariot will salt the earth with your dust."

"Ah…you must be the Police-Girl, Miss Seras Victoria," a voice purred from the darkness. The man emerged, his leeching face appearing in the overhead light—emerald-stone eyes, silver-hair and long, thin and lanky frame. It was Enrico Maxwell, Director of Iscariot. _Things totally suck. _"Am I right in my assumption, Father Anderson?" The Paladin nodded. "This is Miss Seras Victoria."

Victoria smiled a little. Perhaps Maxwell wasn't that bad; after all he seemed mild mannered, even kind. But there was something unsettling about his grin.

Father Renaldo fumbled through the sacks of folders in his arms. He pulled the one labeled: 'Miss Seras Rose Victoria,' handed it to the Director. Maxwell put on a pair of glasses and looked through it, flipping through the pages. "Let me see. Seras Rose Victoria…daughter of Inspector Lewis Fredrick Victoria of Scotland Yard… and Eve Dawn. Orphaned." Seras gasped. _No. No, no, no. That's nobody's business. _"Graduated…Commissioned into the D-11…declared MIA in the Cheddar incident…" He smirked and handed the file back. "Nothing impressive. I don't know what you see Father Anderson. Nothing but a recent bride of The No-Life King, or his _whore_."

That struck a nerve. "I'm a virgin, you tweet," and then she said softer, "Besides I am more like a daughter than a lover." Anyone in the Hellsing manor could tell that the fledging had a slight crush on her Master. It was not uncommon. An intimate relation between a sire and childe was not unheard.

Maxwell smirked doubtfully at her, his eyes examining her chest. "Just like the Master of Monster. Don't play games with me, silly girl. I would not be surprised if Alucard was kept for more carnal reasons."

_He wishes._

"_Indeed I do." _

"Sir Integra is also a virgin." Seras whispered harshly, "Stop getting in the conversation, Master."

Maxwell frowned. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Seras warned, "I would be careful Mr. Maxwell. Remember, the last time you insulted Sir Integra… Alucard was not pleased. We wouldn't want to repeat the experience. Besides his room is just down the hall. He can hear you."

The Director paled.

_Not so tough now. _

Seras took a moment to study the other two people—both women, one dressed as a nun wearing oversized glasses and the second dressed as a priest, a cigarette hanging off her lips. She remembered seeing the Priest known as Father Renaldo. _One…two, three, four…and five. Five Iscariot. This cannot be good. Master is going to love this. _Seras could already see a battle, if not war. Police-girl raised up her hands. "Wait a minute. Hold the phone. I thought it was just going to be Father Anderson and you, Mr. Maxwell."

Maxwell leered, "You thought wrong."

"Apparently…so who are these other people? I don't recognize you. I have only met Father Anderson—well I have met him twice. I don't know you two." The women recoiled, staring the fledging.

"Introductions will be later…when Iscariot and Hellsing sit down for a nice long chat," he explained.

"Or more like another World War," noted Seras. Anderson glared at her, his hands tightening on his blessed-blades.

A voice called out, "Yo Police-Girl!"

_No. No no. _It was Captain Pip Bernadette! _Great. Just great. As if things can't any worse. _"Captain. I thought you were the armory."

"Yes, I was. I heard someone yelling. Hey! That was you." He was surprised at her concern, even flattered. Pip beamed, smiling and gave her a wink. "Were you coming to visit me, love? Want to see me, sweet-cheeks. My sugar pie honey bunch."

"No. Sir Integra sent me to you."

His eyes widen in excitement. "As payment."

"NO. You stupid git!! Please, don't make me bite you. Get your head out of your arse." She grabbed him by his hideous scarf and whispered harshly, "I have _something _important to tell you about certain upcoming events. And specific people. Now, where the bloody-hell are your men? Still in the armory?" Pip nodded. "Good. Let's get going. The sooner the better."

Maxwell studied the Frenchman, his curiosity mounting to another level. "And pray tell me, Miss Police-Girl, who is this chap?"

"I am not Police-Girl. I have a name, its Seras Victoria." Seras reminded dryly, "Introductions later, Mr. Maxwell. Remember. Now if you excuse me, I have some business to take care of…Good day gentlemen…and ladies. I'll see you around." She waved goodbye and head down the corridor with Pip on her arm.

Pip raised an eyebrow at her and asked meekly, "Who the hell was that? He looks creepy, almost like a leech."

The fledging laughed and whispered softly, "You really don't want to know. Trust me, you don't."


	3. Blackmail 2

Hellsing—Bloodlust 

**Disclaimer**—Do not own Hellsing nor the characters. (screams and flees, crying)

Ha!! (laughs mechanical like Dr. Evil) I am back, lovers! I am so terribly sorry that this took so fricking long. I fall to my knees and beg your forgiveness. I had some mild computer problems. Now there are fixed and I am back. Here it is.

**Synopsis**—Archbishop Enrico Maxwell uses his power and influence to blackmail the fallen Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing…but hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn.

**Author's Notes**—For some reason was not able to completely download my entire first chapter. In doing so, it left out some important plot detail. You have to know this.

Yes, as one person pointed out—this is my continuation of the Amine series for season 2. Damn, I wished it went longer. However there is the OVA, which rocks the earth.

Enjoy

Blackmail Disobedience 

--Hellsing Manor,

--Private office of Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.

--Five minutes later

Together Integra Hellsing and Enrico Maxwell entered the confinements of her private office. Maxwell lunged forward, opening the door for her and gesturing an after-you with the wave of his hand. Reluctantly she obliged.

Neither sat down at the open chairs, since the tension was too concentrated between them. It was like thick and black smoke. "Lovely office, _Miss_ Integra Hellsing. Quite charming. Your contractor managed to fix it nicely after the Valentine Brother invasion. I hope their efforts were praised." It was a lovely office. Nice. It did not have that gloomy almost gothic feel like the rest of the mansion.

He studied the painting of her father, Sir Arthur Fredrick Wilson Hellsing. She had her father's blond-silver hair and blue eyes, but every other physical quality came from her mother, the Indian princess Parvati Ramayania.

Their union was forged for political relations, not love.

Regardless Parvati and Arthur respected and honored each other, even so that after her death the Hellsing Knight refused to remarry. Arthur refused the requests of the Queen and the Royal Order, even his friend and comrade Sir Islands. Perhaps love had forged later in the marriage.

To Maxwell, she was still a heathen.

It was rumored that Arthur allowed one room dictated as a shrine to her gods and goddess. The room was in the Southeast end of the Hellsing manor, the wing closest to India. At night the room would smell like incense and lotus bosoms.

A pagan.

The same thing with her daughter, Integra Hellsing.

Nothing more than a Protestant whore…regardless of her boasted virginal status.

"They were paid well." Integra sneered, but replied sweetly, "Director Maxwell, you have but a moment. I advise you to use it."

"No. I will not keep you any longer than what is necessary. After all there is much to be done…so," The smile could have come to face for any reason. He was like a child with a nasty dirty secret. It was terribly vexing. He paused savoring the moment, "His Grace, Holiness the Pope wishes to give you his _personal_ regard and sentiments. The Vatican is concerned about England."

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," remarked Integra dryly. Maxwell did not easily charm her; instead the priest annoyed and disgusted the Hellsing.

"We are brothers and sisters," The Judas-Director replied.

"If that pleases you."

He smiled.

"The Pope is worried." Maxwell continued, "And especially with your unfortunate circumstance with the Baobhan Sith—" He paused, studying her heavily bandaged neck. Integra stiffened and remained cool. She was not about to show an ounce of weakness to this leech. "It must have been traumatizing…with a woman breathing down your neck…as well as your surgery. And that White-Demon, Incognito making you an instrument in his satantic ritual…And then, your shameful imprisonment. Oh, dear…"

She was silent and unresponsive.

Maxwell reached into his jacket and pulled out a yellow-dyed rose. A _rose. _He placed it on the desk, next to her hand. The Italian man jeered, "A token of our best wishes…"

Integra inched away from the object. She remembered their session at the British War Museum. A dry laugh escaped her lips and she replied darkly, "Yellow. You are fond of the color, Maxwell."

He struggled. "One could see it as a friendly gesture. It is the color of friendship, you know."

The priest was not about to give her a white rose. It was the symbol of purity and Maxwell felt that it would be abusing its true intention, especially to her.

She wanted to roll her eyes but she resisted against the urge. Integra noted, "I would hardly call us friends, _Father_ Maxwell."

The Judas Director merely gave a leechlike smile, shoving the rose closer to her hand. Something crossed her face. He frowned, slightly confused by her retreating steps. Maxwell joked sweetly, "Surely you are not afraid of a flower, Miss Integra? It is armless. It may be a humble gift from Iscariot, but I can assure you that it is not poison."

Integra said, "I am not fond of roses."

_Truly_! This bemused Enrico Maxwell and he whispered softly, "_Red Rose Vertigo_." He blinked, snapping out of it. The priest cleared his throat and continued, "In addition the Pope offers his condolences to your dead men and at your recent _fallen from grace_. It's a shame."

Placing her hand over her heart she replied with sarcasm, "I am touched."

Maxwell grinned, the gloating smile stretching ear-to-ear on his waxy face. "That is not all. There are more pressing matters between Hellsing and Iscariot, and that it why my presence has been summoned. Trust me, I take no pleasure being here."

Integra smirked. "Without a doubt. The feeling in mutual." She grabbed a cigar, scratched the match on her spur and lit it. The Hellsing Heir breathed in the fumes and waved him on. "Pray continue…I care not."

He replied in a serious and stern tone, "After the Tower of London incident…a investigation followed. We are aware of your situation—removed from the Order of Royal Protestant Knights and the Hellsing Organization. It is a pity. The Pope sympathizes with you. England is helpless." Maxwell beamed when he witnessed her bubbling rage. She was trying desperately hard to contain it.

"However…as you know MI6 commenced a thorough investigation. Your association was correct—there is a leak within England and within your presence. Some unsuspected fiend." Integra nodded her head, apparently pleased and relaxed. No. Maxwell landed the finishing blow. "The Judas is _not_ among the Round Table. And it is most certainly not Iscariot…so it has been concluded that the traitor is in _your _mist."

"Impossible," Integra protested.

"Not quite. Evidence says otherwise. Some action has been required. You see, _Miss _Hellsing," Maxwell said, moving around her desk and leaned against her chair. He touched the leather, feeling the texture. _Fine quality._ But naturally, not as fine as his. "From much discussion between his Holiness, the Pope and the Queen of England—" The Director of Iscariot cleared his throat. He struggled his shoulders and explained, "Well…It is difficult to explain."

"I believe you will manage," Integra sternly noted.

Maxwell stared at her. He inhaled sharply. "Miss Hellsing…it was agreed that the Hellsing Organization must be under investigation. Permanent investigation—or until otherwise."

This did not surprise her. Dr. Thayer had informed her that there would be an investigation. _Damn it! Bloody Hell! _

"_Truly_? By who?" She pretended to be surprised. Integra also leaned against the desk, directly across from her nemesis. Their faces were inches apart. He could count her blond eyelashes. "Pray tell me Director Maxwell, who or what institute shall be investigating the Hellsing Organization? Who gets that honor?" She advanced closer, the intimacy challenging him, if not tempting him.

_Clever, clever girl_, thought Maxwell. _Such lively spunk!_

Maxwell's eye twitched. "I do not consider it a honor, but rather an insult! The remedy is simple. A _neutral_ source is necessary. It is Iscariot."

Her heart fell in her chest. _Merciful Lord. _Integra straightened in her pose. It reminded Maxwell of a cobra defending itself against a large, oversized predator. _A coiled serpent is deadly. _ "Iscariot is hardly what I refer as a neutral source."

Maxwell noted plainly. "You do not trust us." He pretended to act surprise, but the game was too childish for Integra. She did not take the bait; instead Integra spit it in his face.

"Not anymore than you trust me. I believe that is a fair assumption."

Maxwell noted, "Miss Integra, you seem bitter. Surely you have nothing to hide."

She could longer stand that smile, so she turned away. Integra stepped towards the window and peered out through the blinds. In the distance the slimmer of the sun danced on the horizon.

"You are trending on thin, breaking ice. London is begging for the Queen to crucify you. The Courts will only add a scandal to a crime," he paused, laughing mechanical. "And besides, _Miss Integra_ you have a long lists of grievances against you." Snapping his fingers, he reached into his Holy Bible and pulled out a piece of parchment that domination the office. He forced it in front of Integra. Maxwell continued, "Such ghastly and sinister crimes—obstruction of justice, heresy— "

Integra silenced him. "Cry _stop _to your tongue. I _know_ the charges against me. I am on probation. So this is the Queen's message? I am under investigation. Thank you for the notice. You may leave." The Judas Director did not move, just smiled. "Pray, is that all?"

He said, "Not exactly. You are too hasty, Miss Integra."

Integra demanded sharply, "Then explain. I am not in the mood for games. Kindly get to the bloody point."

Maxwell wagged his finger at her. "Such language. Besides _patience is a virtue_."

"Not with Hellsing," Integra replied sharply.

He cleared his throat and added, "The Queen is demanding your total cooperation. There will be consequences for disobedience." Maxwell pulled out another paper from his bible and handed it to her, very deliberately. The calculated movement disturbed her. Maxwell had an I-know-something-you-don't know look on his face. Integra did not like nor did she find it amusing.

Integra eyed it. "This is in Latin."

"I think you will manage." She passed him a stern look and tried to decipher the meaning. Looking at Maxwell was a waste of her time and effort. It was a meaningless practice. It was insulting enough to be in his presence. Integra read on until something real specific caught her off guard. Her azure glaze blinked away the astonishment, but she could not tear her eyes away from the words. "Indeed. Intriguing is it not? It is an agreement between His Holiness the Pope and the Queen of England. That was my same reaction."

The former Hellsing director licked her lips. She huffed a bitter laugh and shuttered, "Surely—Director surely not. This—this simply cannot--this cannot be creditable document."

Maxwell challenged, "It has the Queen's signature and royal seal, as I am sure that you have seen them before."

"You will harvest my _eggs_!" Integra fumed, shaking the paper at him.

Maxwell merely grinned and the Devil himself would have been pleased. He purred compassionately, "Miss Integra…the situation itself is not all bad. Cooperate, that's all that required of you."

She asked, "And if I do not?"

"The consequence has a price." The Director of Iscariot relaxed into her office chair, clearly enjoying the status of power and control over the Protestant maiden. _Stupid little heretic whore. Squealing English sow._ He could taste her frustration and her helplessness, and it was exquisite. He placed his boots on her desk and folded his hands into his lap. "It is quite simple. If you do not cooperate—you will be permanently removed from your status. Due to your family's blood-bond to that _Hellspawn_…well, we simply cannot have him running around free, so therefore another Hellsing heir must take the reins. Your eggs will be harvest and you will go through surgical sterilization. No babies outside the authorization of the Vatican. This is all in the legal document."

God!

"This is ridiculous," she breathed, staring into the distance. _How can this be?_ Integra felt abandoned. One question plagued her and she feared the answer. She hesitantly inquired, "And pray tell…who will father my eggs."

Maxwell inhaled heavily and then pointed to _himself_.

Him.

"It would help bond the two houses of Hellsing and Iscariot. Similar to your father and mother's marriage." The Judas Priest reminded sweetly, "It is all in the document. I made you an extra copy."

Integra looked at him in disgust. "_You_! I sooner stab out my ovaries then allow _my_ blood to be _water down_."

He leered. _Like I want to fertilize your eggs. _Maxwell advised smoothly, "Than I suggest you cooperate. Just cooperated. If you are innocent than we shall find nothing criminal. It's rather simple, _Protestant_."

Integra growled. "Get out, Maxwell!"

"You forget I have an investigation. Iscariot is your guest. There are five of us--"

She stepped towards him, her blood boiling and eyes dancing. Integra ripped the document in half and threw the remains like confetti at him. A piece landed on his lip and Maxwell breathed it away. "I was afraid of your temper and your stubbornness, so I took the liberty of making many copies."

"I said, get your puny excuse of a carcass out of my sight."

Maxwell heaved an exhausted sigh. "Again, I have an investigation to complete. Plus I cannot leave _you alone_. You see his Holiness, the Pope and the Queen after _much _consolidation, came to the conclusion that—and I quote," Maxwell pulled out a notebook and read, "Here it is… 'It is most unwise to have the wounded Protestant Knight, Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing in the presence of the Nosferatu Alucard,' so therefore it is probable that a bodyguard must be accounted for?"

Integra rolled her sadden eyes. "Who?"

Maxwell closed her notebook and stood up. He said sympathetically, "Miss Integra you surprise me. It would be Iscariot, of course. An Iscariot agent will be present with you every moment—night to day." He walked closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was hardly comforting, in fact it was mocking. "We are here to ensure your safety."

"My safety?! Don't make me laugh." She glared at his hand until he removed it. In her silence Integra weighted her options. Finally she inhaled sharply and asked, "How long will this investigation take?"

Maxwell leered, "For as long as it takes."

She gave a sharp exhale, killing her cigar in the ashtray. "For the record, you shall find nothing of interest. Your investigation—or _interrogation_," she challenged, "shall be hopelessly in vain. Innocence is my verdict."

He blinked in surprise, setting aside his Bible and crossing his arms. "I must ask _Miss_ Hellsing—what makes you so confident?"

Integra replied plainly, "God is my witness, Father. That is enough."

TBC…

Look into me eyes—'Give me Reviews.'

Did it work?

Doesn't that fricking blow? It totally sucks.

Stay around folks, I will update ASAP.

Next—I plan that the tension between Hellsing and Iscariot matures. Alucard and Anderson have got to fight. That's a given people. Integra and Maxwell will have more verbal arguments. Meet the Duchess; she's a real bitch. I made her and I do not like her. I think I will kill her off. Maybe another Kim. (evil laugh) Iscariot is settling in and doing their bullshit investigation…Hellsing is doing a bad thing.

Until then,

Immortalis


	4. Chapter 4

Hellsing—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—Good GOD! I hate saying this. I am in denial…I—do—not—own—Hellsing. Honestly, if I did, do you think I would writing this? No, I didn't think so…

**Synopsis**—Time is against the Hellsing Heir. Even with Iscariot at Hellsing, Integra has little choice but to renew the Seal. The tension swells.

Aut**hor's Note**—Sorry about the delay.

THREE

Unnatural Relations _Renewal of the Seals_

_--London, England_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Private Library of Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing_

_--2:21pm_

There was a knock at the parted door.

A voice commanded in a firm tone, "Come in."

The door opened and Director Enrico Maxwell entered the room, followed by Heinkel Wolfe and Father Anderson. They exchanged bored looks with each other, while Maxwell beamed smiling like an idiot. After all, this was their least favorite assignment—watching the Protestant sow. The only good protestant was a dead protestant. Maxwell, however enjoyed the assignment; in fact, he requested it from the Pope himself. The Judas-nun explored the room. The Hellsing Library was beautiful, but not as much as the Vatican. It had that 19th century Gothic look to it, especially with the dark walls, high arches and the poor lighting. Was it the only part of the house without electricity? Even the basement had electricity. With a crude wave of his hand Maxwell motioned them to stay and just to observe.

Enrico Maxwell stepped further into the room, closer to the figure sitting on the Persian rug. The vile Director mused, pressing his fingers to his lips. He watched her, studying her like a patron studying a new and radical piece of art in a museum. He half-expected her to sit in a cushioned leather chair, but no, the Hellsing wench was sitting cross-legged on the floor. It surprised him. It was slightly unorthodox; however, what did he expect from a filthy Protestant heretic.

The room was nice. Almost every inch of the wall was hidden by bookshelves, all slacked vertically, which reminded Maxwell of building bricks. He could picture the young Integra Hellsing reading in this room. In a way it reflected her, cold and distant.

He approached and said, "_Miss_ Integra Wingates Hellsing."

Integra ignored them, scribbling fiercely inside the book in her hand. She refused to acknowledge them. Maxwell noted there was a quill in her hand and a bottle of ink on a pile of books. _Quite old fashioned_. The room smelled like old parchment, hot wax and fragranced incense. An assortment of papers surrounded the Iron Maiden. It was an organized clutter. There were slacks of thick ageless books rising from the floor, occasionally blending into the bookshelves from the wall. It was an endless sea of literature.

Her voice was cold and remarkably sharp, "Normally I do not entertain, as you know. Not to my intruders."

"Don't think me of an enemy, Miss Hellsing," he replied sweetly. He gave her toothy grin.

Abruptly Integra reached her feet. All the candles were behind her, making a shadowy silhouette of her fine figure. She placed a hand on her hip and hotly replied, "I made it crystal clear that was not to be disturbed here. It was a simple request, Maxwell. Am I not allowed a sanctuary in my own house?" The Hellsing Heir had changed out of her riding gear. Now, she was wearing light gray-slacks and buttoned-down blouse, which displayed the depth of her sternum and the slight swell of her beasts. However, the collar was turned up, covering her bandaged neck and her crimson-blood tie was slightly loosened. "Apparently you must be hard of hearing."

Maxwell had never seen her so undressed. She always wore suits, which covered everything, ranging from her ankles to her neck. He noted, _She's not wearing a bra either._

"I refuse to be a prisoner in my own home."

He blinked and said, "_Miss_ Integra Hellsing, if things were only so simple. We have business." Maxwell pulled out his Holy Bible and his rosary, caressing the objects in his hands. A leechlike smile came to his waxy face. "Again I am here for your confession, my child." _What a confession it would be! _

"I am Protestant, which means I do not confess my sins to a priest. This phase is becoming tiring." The sight of him in the Hellsing Library caused her blood to boil. Her eyes darken, but it was hard to tell her facial expressions because of the ill candlelight. She answered dryly, "Forgive me father for I am sinning…I am having murderous thoughts. Very sinful and bloody."

The Judas-Director blinked at her frankness. Anderson stepped closer. Unlike Maxwell, he refused to take any threat or answer from her as a simple joke. As a human in a house with a vampire taught one valuable lesson—'Kill or be killed. Be the hunter and not the prey.' Alucard practically raised her, constantly teasing and testing her potential and ability to master him. Integra pasted every test, becoming a deadly and worthy adversary of human and vampire alike. No doubt, the No-Life King beamed with pride.

Heaving an irritable sigh Integra replied low, "I have no confession to make to a Judas-Priest. Now, leave me. Is it so difficult to leave me to my promised solitude," she ordered sternly. "Excuse me, I have business to do."

"I cannot. Remember you must have an escort throughout all hours of the day. Heinkel Wolfe will be your guard and then Anderson at the next shift." Integra glimpsed at Heinkel, studying her priestly robes and short ash-hair. The nun matched the stare.

"Heinkel Wolfe—what is your professional status?" Integra asked plainly.

"A Assassin Judas," she answered stiffly. "I am a earthly agent of divine punishment under his Holiness, the Pope and the one God of the true Catholic fate."

Integra did not seem pleased, but rather disappointed and annoyed. "Have you experience with Midians and ghouls."

Heinkel paused. "Little."

She could not lie, even to a Protestant whore.

She exchanged a glaze with Maxwell. "I found your protection lacking."

Maxwell reddened and replied smoothly, "Heinkel Wolfe and Yumiko—and Yumie, and Paladin Anderson are well able to handle anything. Both vampires and heretics. They are our specialty."

"You have mistaken me, Maxwell. I no not doubt Father Anderson. I have seen him in action." She was regarding the incident in Badrick of Northern Ireland. The

Judas Priest almost took her head.

Sensing a challenge Maxwell said, "Summon one of your vampire pets."

"No-blood-shed-in-my house," Integra answered evenly.

"Iscariot will protect you."

"How sweet of you!" Integra mused, hand touching her chest over her heart. She didn't even glance at the Iscariot members, since her eyes were focused on Maxwell. Lord! A blind man could see the hatred rise between the two Directors. The intension loomed, rising like black smoke to old and evil gods; regrettably no words could possibly relieve it. Her fake smile vanished.

He leered, "You should be thankful that Iscariot extends that courtesy."

"Courtesy!" She quirked, "I must say, you have a twisted view of what courtesy is."

"Yes. I imagine you are swindled about the intentions of your vampire pet. Foolish woman," the Judas-Director challenged harshly.

"Alucard?" Integra shook her head and replied softer, "Do not mistake yourself, Maxwell. I know full well of his intentions and I take none of them lightly."

The Director heaved a defeated sigh. This Hellsing woman was especially difficult, not to mention extremely intriguing. He was reminded of the Greek goddess Artemis, as well as her short tempter, fierce loyalty and the status of the Virgin Goddess. _How ironic! _Maxwell mused, "A woman who depends on a vampire to protect her…how romantic and—"

She interrupted deadly cold, "I would refrain from ending that sentence."

Maxwell leered at her. "Regardless, you should be thankful."

She noted harshly, "I am _not_." Integra walked over to the bookshelves and removed a book from the sacks. She observed it, flipping through the pages and replaced it. The Hellsing Heir hunted the shelves, apparently searching for something specific.

"Do you honestly think I would be here if it were not for his Holiness's orders?"

Maxwell leaned to the side, looking at the objects on the floor—a cluster of old parchments, candles, and chalk and to his surprise; there was a needle, an empty Medical-Blood bag and plastic tubing. _What the devil? _The sight raised alarmed bells. _What is she up to?_

"I don't know, Enrico. Is it?" He was rather taken back by the question. Why else would he be here? For her company? Maxwell wanted to laugh in her face.

Book in hand Integra ambled pass Maxwell and stopped just short of Father Anderson. She questioned him, "Tell me Paladin, do I strike you as a helpless individual?"

The priest huffed a short laugh. "Quite the opposite."

Maxwell pulled his eyes away from the floor and reminded, "You are under the Queen's order, Miss Integra. I don't think you would want to disobey her Majesty. Besides I am not finished with you. I came to inquire about your health—all aspects."

"My health?" Slightly surprised by his question she glanced at him over the book. The expression was fleeting and her eyes returned to the marked page. Integra turned a page.

"Your family doctor is extremely difficult—refuses to share any information with my members."

Ah yes, Dr. Edmund W. Trevalin. God bless his soul. It was good to know that his contact remained under excellent intentions. After all, there were certain things that Maxwell nor Iscariot and the members of the Royal Order had no business knowing. Some things were personal. Only Walter knew and no doubt, Alucard had his suspicions.

She laughed softly and said, "It is nice to know that the doctor-patient privileges are still honored."

"Regardless Iscariot demands those rights."

"There is no heed to worry," Integra consulted one of the scattered documents and scribbled a note. Reading on, Integra turned her back on the Judas-Director. Her ignorance boiled Maxwell, but nevertheless he composed himself, and waited patiently. "I am well, Maxwell. No need to concern yourself about my health, after all, you have an investigation to complete." She lifted her icy blue eyes into his emerald-stone glaze. "I would think that you would be dying to commence it."

Maxwell smirked. "Do not falter yourself, girl. I was referring about early this morning—or afternoon. Moments ago you looked rather _distraught_," noted the Judas-Priest. "You appeared troubled. Flustered even."

Integra did not reply. It took every ounce of self-control not to take the Glock .45 and blow his brains across the floor. She might have; however, she did not want to stain the Persian rug or damage the books and documents. Murder is a messy business. _Cooperation, just cooperate._ There were more important matters other than Iscariot. Integra studied her grandfather's documents; it was all the evidence concerning the No-Life King. On one piece of paper was a crude drawling of the Hellsing Seal and several other Wicca symbols. Even during her ten years of heritance, Integra had only read half of the records. She was running behind in her duty. The Renewal of the Seal had been postponed. Too long and things would become very dangerous and she knew that too well. It was personal.

"Hard as it may be, try placing yourself into my shoes. The situation is not pleasant," Integra said evenly.

He laughed. The sound was a dry crackling chuckle. It reminded her of Alucard's mechanical and tauntingly laughter, meaning it was unpleasant. "Iscariot does not wish to upset you, Miss Integra. The last thing you need is excess stress and hardship. We wouldn't want to endanger the Hellsing Seal, now would we?"

The book closed with a hard snap. She replied stiffly, "Alucard is _my_ concern, _not_ yours. I can handle him."

The Judas Director smirked doubtfully and inched closer. _Sly sow! Clever girl. _Integra intrigued Maxwell. He leered, "On the contrary _Miss_ Hellsing he is my concern. The Tower of London is an excellent example of your ability to control your pet-vampire. I thought your performance was rather poor."

Integra challenged, "Shall we review _your_ performance over Father Alexander Anderson?"

Anderson crossed his arms defiantly. He hissed, "Heathen." Heinkel stopped him with her hand on his chest. It lingered a moment too long.

Maxwell reminded stiffly. "I am not the one being investigated."

"Thank you for pointing that out."

Beats of silence echoed between them.

Integra narrowed her eyes, looking at the entrance. "You are early. I said 2:30, you _idiot_."

A voice replied smoothly, "My apologies, my Master." The air-temperature became slightly colder, almost announcing his presence. A low dark giggle echoed in the room and an inky and endless shadow emerged from the opened doors. First, was the blinking and darting eyes of his daemons, the Hellhounds and then the shadow retreated, displaying the familiar figure dressed in red.

Heinkel turned and gasped.

It was the No-Life King. Alucard stood, standing at the entrance with his hands in his pockets and head slightly bowed. The vampire did not have his fedora, just his sunglasses. His eyes, however peered over the rim of his shades. They shimmered like two priceless rubies. A bloodthirsty grin crossed his smiling lips it was somewhat demonic. Anderson unleashed his blessed-blades and strangely Alucard did not pass the Judas-Priest a glance; after all, his scarlet eyes were focused on Integra and only her. "I sensed that you were distressed."

Integra shook her head and noted coolly, "You did not come this afternoon."

"I was sleeping," he explained meekly.

He was lying and they both knew it.

Maxwell retreated from the doorway, his shoulder bumping into Integra and nearly knocking himself over. His lower eyelid twitched at the sight of the vampire. Heinkel looked very uncomfortable, since she dealt with heretics and terrorists, not midians. It was especially odd since he was the No-Life King and not a juvenile vampire like Seras Victoria. Alucard was old and matured, designed into perfection by the Hellsing family. Like Integra Hellsing and the Angel of Death, he was not an adversary to be trifled.

To the Judas-Director this was their second meeting and just as uncomfortable as their first. He mumbled under his breath, "Nosferatu Alucard."

"Director Enrico Maxwell, why you look pale," Integra noted innocently.

He exchanged a look with her. "Whatever he is doing here? The sun is out." Next to silver and crosses, the sunlight was an efficient instrument against vampires. They melted into dust.

Alucard said, "Indeed, the sun is shining out. It is another horrible day. Besides, for me, sunlight isn't some great enemy. I just hate it."

Anderson stepped forward. He raged, "Begone demon."

The vampire finally acknowledged him. He smiled and cooed, "Paladin of Iscariot. It is a pleasure. I was hoping you would show up. Poor Vatican whipping boy, I smelled your stench the moment you walked in the manor. The scent of a priest is distinct. Hardly tolerable."

Maxwell turned on Integra and demanded, "Why is he here, Miss Hellsing? You and the Nosferatu are supposed to have minimal interaction. It was in the contract. That was in the agreement."

"I am well aware of it." Integra rolled her eyes. She said firmly, "Save your breath. I summoned him. As I said, I have private business with the Midian."

Heinkel whispered, "Business. What kind?"

"It is an urgent matter," she explained. "Relax Maxwell, he cannot enter the library." Integra pointed to the crosses hanging at the doorway. Alucard lingered at the threshold, pacing like an impatient predator. He placed a hand out and no amount of supernatural strength could possible break the spiritual barrier. Less than ten years ago Integra had made sure of it.

Alucard mused, "We are behind schedule, Master. I have been patient, all things considering…the surgery and imprisonment."

"And you are persistent as ever," noted Integra.

Maxwell wrinkled his brow.

He laughed a soft mechanical chuckle. The No-Life King struggled his shoulders and replied meekly, "Well…considering we wouldn't want to cause an _accident_…" He paused relishing the meaning of the word. The vampire glazed up, meeting his blood eyes with her blue hard stare. He said darkly, "We both know what happened last time. It was not pretty, or even pleasant." Alucard savored, enjoying the frightened look in her eyes, but it was only for a moment. "_Unless_, you like to go at it, again. Round two?"

Integra did not respond, but she remembered the incident.

Alucard licked his lips and asked eagerly, "Did you bring the supplies?"

She nodded her head and narrowed her eyes at him. Integra barked, "Of course I did."

"Can't we do it the old-fashion way?" he teased. Alucard tried to hide his disappointment but failed miserably. "Swallow bites. It wouldn't even hurt."

She was used to this and turned to Maxwell. "Forgive me but there is a matter I must attend to. You may leave Maxwell. I will see you later."

"I will not."

They stared at each other.

Integra pinched her sinuses and adjusted her glasses. She replied as kindly and as civil as she could possibly manage, "Director Enrico Maxwell you are encouraged, if not invited to remove yourself. Sister Heinkel Wolfe may stay. Eradicate your presence form this room, or I will be oblige to have Walter _escort_ you out."

Maxwell wagged a finger at her. "Our business is not yet concluded."

She replied with more force, "You may have all the time you need later. Not now."

"I am not leaving."

Maxwell shook his head disdainfully. The Protestant sow spent more time with her vampire-pets than with humans, and apparently she favored their company. Again, he wondered if she kept Alucard for more carnal purposes. No! The Police-Girl said she was a virgin. _There are other avenues of earthly pleasures. Perhaps Integra prefers pain as pleasure. _At the meeting, the members of Protestant Knights inquired and protested firmly against her questionable time with the No-Life King and her ability to control him. Maxwell did not distrust her ability, but her intentions. Their relationship was too complicated.

"Alucard." With a growl of great pleasure the No-Life King advanced on the Judas Director, fangs bared and bloodthirsty eyes dancing behind his shades. A grin twitched his lips.

Maxwell flinched and said in his strongest tone, "I am staying."

Integra sat down on the Persian rug and took the needle, bag and tubing in hand. She lifted her sleeve. Maxwell could only stare at the spot where her forearm and upper arm met at the elbow. It was a roadmap of needle marks, some years old and a few fresh. No wonder she always wore suits. She was a roadmap of scars and old battles.

"Miss Integra…"

"Fine. Stay if you must. I shall warn you that this may get very uncomfortable. I may be removed of my duty, but I have an obligation to fillfull."

Maxwell asked, "Regarding?"

"The very thing you are so concerned about…the Hellsing Seal. The bond between my grandfather, Abraham Van Hellsing and the No-Life King was sealed in blood and it is renewed in the same ink."

The needle pierced the skin and embedded inside the hallow tube of a vein, hot crimson blood flooded down the IV and gathered inside the Medical-Blood supply bag. Unlike the others Maxwell had seen, this one was unmarked. No name. No blood type. It was hers. _Renewal of the Hellsing Seal. _Maxwell knew that Alucard demanded blood in exchange for servitude, or perhaps blood sealed the deal between the Hellsing family and the Midian Lord. Besides it wasn't just any blood, it was the blood of his captors, the Hellsings.

_It was symbolic._

And personal.

No one spoke.

In little time the Medical-Blood bag was full. Integra lifted the bag and examined her blood. She asked dryly, "Should I place it on ice for you, _sir_?"

"_NO_!" he growled.

Even Anderson flinched at the tone of his voice.

She gritted her teeth, grinding them. "I should punish you for arriving early. I said 2:30."

"I want it warm and fresh."

Integra smirked doubtfully. "You can _want _all you like."

Alucard snarled. "I won't drink it if it's cold, and then let us see how much longer the Hellsing Seal can protect you."

"I think that was a threat," she challenged.

"Just a warning." He came closer, almost touching the spiritual barrier. Alucard replied sweetly, "Give it to me warm." Integra glared at him. The vampire rolled his eyes and asked, "Please give it to me warm, _Master_."

Integra laughed. It was a nice sound. "I love it when you _beg_, slave."

Laying on the rug, Integra took a breather and then toss the bag over the threshold. The Medical-Blood bag slid across the floor and landed on Alucard's boots. The No-Life King smiled and bent over, retrieving the bag. He tucked it in the corner of his arm, rocking it like a baby.

"I suggest you drink it before it gets cold."

To be continued…

I hoped you liked it.

What's next? Alucard and Anderson are going to fight! Seras gets in the way. Filled with blood and curses.

Reviews please

Immortalis


	5. Battle between Immortals

Hellsing—Bloodlust 

First thing—thank you all for your reviews. Terribly sorry about the delay. Finals are a major pain in my rear.

**Disclaimer**—I do not have any right on Hellsing or the characters. Excuse me while I cry…

**Synopsis**—Continuing off Unnatural Relations. Anderson and Alucard have their own private battle, but not if Seras Victoria decides to interrupt it. Hell is heating up.

Ta,

Immortalis

_Battle Between Immortals_ _Cute Nuns and Sexy Vamps_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Subbasement_

_--Level 3_

Soon after the episode in the Library, Father Anderson followed the scent of blood and death into the subbasement. He pursued after the No-Life King, blessed-blades in hand and mumbling prayers under his breath. _Unholy fiend. Spawn of the Devil. May he burn in the flames in hell. _The electrical lights flickered on and off, but the Paladin hardly noticed. He did not even see Captain Bernadette and Seras Victoria poke their heads out and watch the priest storm by. "So that's _the_ Father Alexander Anderson?" Pip smirked. He flipped up the collar of his shirt and flexed a muscle. "He doesn't look that tough. Bet I could take him on?"

The Police-Girl cast him an annoyed look and scolded him, "It's not funny, Captain. Like I said _twice_, 'he is a Regenerator.'" She grabbed him by his scarf. "Listen Sir Integra says that you are to avoid him—and all members of Iscariot."

Pip could not hide his disappointment. "Not even that hot cute thing with the glasses."

Seras raged, "This is serious," and then she added, "Besides I don't think she is all right in the head. I think she's schizophrenic —or whatever they call it. I think there are two of them."

"The more, the merrier. Threesomes are very agreeable, you know." The Frenchman smiled, despite her flaming red eyes and blared fangs. "Damn you are sexy when you are mad. It is alluring." Police-Girl rolled her eyes. "Okay! I got it. I got it!! No interaction with Iscariot—not until our little fireworks episode, " Pip noted sweetly.

"Now you are getting the picture."

He waved her off. "Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. But where the bloody hell is he going? The man looks like he going to do battle with the Devil himself." Pip rolled his eyes. "Crazy fucking lunatic. Oh! Police-Girl, me and the Wild Geese were wondering if you wanted to play strip-poker and…"

Pip turned and she was gone.

He threw his hands into the air. "Damn! Where has that girl gone?"

Seras was trailing after the Judas Priest with the Harkonnen in hand. She had a bad feeling. A really bad one.

_Battle between Immortals_

_--Hellsing estate_

_--Subbasement_

_--Level 4_

The ageless Nosferatu raised his head and sniffed the air. It was violated by a range of orders, some pleasant and other sour—sweat, mold, wet stone, smoke and of course stale blood; however there was something distinct floating and following him in the atmosphere. He knew it. Alucard gripped the blood-bag closer, noting that it was still warm. _Warm virginal blood. _Any vampire would agree that it was the finest and sweetest. The blood hummed against his undead fresh. His nostrils flared again.

Now he knew the new smell.

Alucard glanced behind his shoulder and a growl escaped his rumbling throat. It roared like a furnace and his ruby-stone eyes flashed dangerously. They were bloodthirsty, savoring the battle that was approaching fast. He ignored his Master's orders, 'no death threats, no suggestive deaths and _no battles with the Paladin_.'

The silhouette of the priest appeared in the darkness with his blessed-blades shimmering in the flickering lights. His voice echoed in the corridor, "_As ye walk through the Valley of Death, I shall fear no evil…for thou art with me. Thy rod and staff comfort me_…"

With a yawn Alucard replied distastefully, "Your prayers bore me, Judas-Priest."

Anderson stopped. "Ye are always bored, monster."

Alucard took a seat in his chair and nodded. He replied as if quoting scripture, "_Boredom is the true enemy of a Midian…Eternity is a tiring existence_…"

Anderson asked sternly, "Is that verse from the Devil's works, vampire?"

"No. A fellow acquaintance of mine said it once. I think you would like her." Yes, indeed. _The Bloody Baroness…the Queen of Illusions_. No doubt, she would like Anderson. Priest or not, the human had spunk that would satisfy her infamous and anomalous tastes.

The priest paced impatiently in the hall. "Funny, I never pegged ye as a religious fellow."

He wagged a finger at him. "Foolish boy. I _was_ Catholic." The vampire-King glanced into the distance. Visions of the past flooded his mind, but with an impassive shrug Alucard reminded himself that they were memories. They were nothing but figments of the long and best-forgotten history. It was the past. "That was once upon a time."

"And ye turned your back on God."

"No," he answered with a shaky laugh.

"Liar," the priest accused.

"I am not an atheist. I completely believe in God…and I absolutely hate him." Alucard licked his red lips. He popped a straw through the bag and suckled on it. The vampire drank in the sweet blood. _Blood is the Life. _It was the essence of the soul and better yet it was the life's fluid of his Master, the Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. _Sweet and thick as honey. _He offered the Medical-Blood bag to Anderson and asked sweetly, "Would you like a sip, Judas-Priest? It is exquisite, like fine wine. Like you, its virginal."

It took a moment for Anderson to understand the meaning of virginal. It wasn't an insult. Anderson, after all, took a vow of chastity when he became a member of the church. "How did you…"

"Virginity is something sweet. It is in the air…Even Integra has it…Seras Victoria as well." The vampire continued, "That must be frustrating, priest. God cannot satisfy you like a good pair of legs and a pair of soft beasts. There is something so pleasing about a woman's warmth."

"Silent your tongue." Anderson raised his blades. In a flash Alucard unleashed the Jackal, aiming between his green-eyes. _I am not about to spill a drop of this blood. Not because of this Vatican whipping-boy. It is mine. _The room darkened and the shadow flickered and moved through the thickening darkness. The red eyes of the Hellhounds appeared in the gloom. "I shall not be disturbed during my meal, Paladin. I will not!!!"

He was not hindered.

"You question me about boredom, Judas-Priest?" Alucard set the Medical-Blood bag to the side. He inquired sourly, "The question is Judas-Priest, are _you_ bored? You have come here, to me. Whatever are you searching for, my _crusader_?" Anderson didn't reply, merely glared at the vampire. A frown turned to a smile. "Tell me, do you feel like having a thrill? Some fun. Want a battle? Perhaps, even a game. Picture it—a battle between the _Immortals_. Our Masters don't have to know. It shall be our little _secret_, Anderson."

Anderson crossed his bayonets. "By the will of God, I shall strike ye down."

"In your wet-dreams priest."

_Interruption _

Police-Girl heard the roar of gunfire and jumped. She breathed, "Master…"

Desperately fearful she ran.

When Seras reached the source of the noise, a heart-wrenching and violent sight meant the young vampire. Her mouth dropped. A jet of fierce arterial spray shot out, spaying on the wall next to her and missing her only by a foot. The scene was a bloodbath. Anderson was riddled with bullet holes and her Master Alucard was soaked in blood. Smoke and small flames shimmered off the No-Life King, since the Judas-Priest had used holy water. It was a battle between Immortals, between gods.

Gods of death and destruction.

Seras cried out, "What the bloody hell?"

The Harkonnen canon dropped to the dungeon floor.

"No. Don't!"

Alucard was enjoying himself too much and Anderson was too enraged to notice the young fledging. They savored their battle, ignoring their duty and common sense. The No-Life shot only with one arm, since he was holding the Medical-Blood supply out of danger.

She rushed forward. "Stop it! What are you doing? STOP! _Please!!" _

Seras latched on Alucard's arm and heaved him away from the mad priest. Fangs blared, Alucard growled at her, eyes burning Hell's fury. He turned the Jackal on his fledging. Seeing his moment Anderson hurried forward, readied to bury his blessed-blades into his flesh. Police-Girl saw this and cried out, "Stop this madness!" She pressed her foot on his chest and pushed him off. He slammed into the wall.

Half-dazed he threw a blade at the vampires. It flew through the air, ranking at lighting speed. The blade sliced the plastic bag and it broke. A drop fell on her forehead and she glanced up. "No…please no." Then the crimson-blood squirted from the plastic hole and drowned Seras in its thick water like embrace. The poor Police-Girl was covered head to toe in the Hellsing Heir's life essence.

A drop fell into her panting mouth and she tasted it. She liked its sweetness. _No. I cannot. _No wonder Alucard demanded it fresh. It was so unbelievable good. "No! I would!" She tried to wipe the crimson-fluid from her parted lips.

Victoria released Alucard and he flew at the Judas-Priest. He was mumbling curses in some unknown tongue. She ran over and took the Harkonnen. Yelling she swung and smacked her Master and the Judas-Priest across the face. They fell to the dungeon floor with a hard thud. Anderson smirked; however, Alucard was more surprised. He stared up at his fledging, a trail of blood trickled down his lip.

"_STOP THIS!!_ NO! How dare you, Master!!"

Alucard wipe his mouth. "You don't give me orders, childe."

"Sir Integra does. She said '_no battles between the Paladin_.' You bloody idiot!!"

The No-Life King laughed and passed a glance at the Paladin. He wiped his bloodstained lips. "Surprising, isn't it _crusader_? Finally the little Draculaina has grown bold. Lit a spark to feed the flame. I love it."

"Go to hell."

The vampire nearly choked on his rumbling amusement. "Been there, done that. I found it quite charming. Toasty warm."

In a pique of rage she threw the Harkonnen at their feet and walked away.

Anderson questioned, "Where are ye going?"

"To Sir Integra."

The No-Life King heaved a sigh, looking at the Medical-Blood bag. It was empty. "While you are there, tell Integra I need another pint."

"You can tell her yourself, prick!"

_Ice Queen_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Subbasement_

Integra was a vision of Hell.

No doubt, God himself would have trembled.

She stormed down in the subbasement, ignoring Maxwell's protests and questions. Walter advised her to slow down, warning her about her health and condition. The Hellsing Heir was enraged, her blood boiling inside her veins and their voices fell on deaf ears. Her grip tightened on the handle of her beloved Glock .45. Walter was the first to learn about the incident, then Integra. It was not a pretty sight. When the Angel of Death asked about her bloody clothes, Seras replied meekly, 'we had an accident.'

Walter pleaded, "_Please, _Sir Integra! Stop. You are not well."

"Whatever are you doing?" demanded Maxwell. "I have business with you."

"My duty." Integra paced faster. She mumbled under her breath, "I am seriously pissed off. Stupid ego of a No-Life King—son of a bloody bastard—I'll kill him, I swear."

Coming around the corner she saw Alucard and then he replied sweetly, "Hello there, my sweet Master…"

Integra gave him a slight smile, and then without warning she lifted the Glock .45 and fired, the bullet slamming into his groin. The vampire yelped and fell to his knees, clutching his precious and even sensitive family's jewels. He cursed in his native tongue. Alucard paled, his complexion white enough to shame a ghost back to its grave. Due to the intense and unexpected pain, the fervid luster in his eyes diminished. Thick blood oozed from his fingers. Horrified, Seras glanced at Sir Integra, as always her features were stoic.

"Fucking Mercury-Silver bullets!" Alucard groaned. He glanced up at her and his features darkened. The No-Life King inched closer, completely ready to pounce on her and gorge himself like a leech on her. Iscariot or not, he wanted to ravish her virginal temple and have her scream out. "_Little girl, I'll drain you dry._"

Sensing this Walter stepped in front of her, razor-wires taunt. It would not be the first time he had such thoughts.

"_Come closer, Countess_…I want to repeat that experience—nine years ago. Your face was lovely. Integra, my Love let us have Round two. No interruptions." Alucard reached his feet, inching closer. He was so vengeful that he ignored Walter's wires flickering inches away from his face.

Integra fumed and aimed the gun again. Alucard inched away and replied softer, "That is sensitive. Very tender."

"I imagine it burns." Enrico Maxwell smiled down at Alucard. "Hellish fiend."

Then Integra shot Alexander Anderson, shattering his Iscariot rosary into a million pieces and hitting him square in the chest. The priest blinked at her and winced against the pain. Heinkel upholstered her Eagle .35 and Yumie appeared, wheeling her samurai sword. The Iscariot Director cried out, "Sir Integra! How dare you!!"

"I will not hear it," she said in the calmest of tones. "Shut it, you leech."

"Such spunk!" Partly healed, Alucard laughed. _That was a first time. _Integra had shot him before, several times in fact, but never in that particular spot. He hoped never to repeat the experience. His mechanical chuckle grew louder and his Master glared at him. The No-Life King wheezed, "If that had been permanent, I would have been very disappointed."

Integra hissed coldly, "Enough of your prattle, vampire. I am most displeased."

Maxwell raged, his left eye twitching irritability. He howled, "Tame your vampire pet."

"Keep a watchful eye on your Paladin," Integra warned. "Or I shall shoot so there won't be enough parts to regenerate." She turned her attention on the Midian and the Judas-Priest. "I will have this house in shambles. Not because of your disagreements. How many times do I have to tell you, Alucard? If you want to fight, go outside and do it. Kill yourselves outside. Not inside my house."

When Alucard demanded another pint of blood, Integra took Seras' wet clothes and threw them at him. "Suck it off them. You won't get another drop from me!!!"

TBC

Immortalis

Now, give me reviews or ideas. I welcome them but I may not take them. He hee. Just kidding.

I confess…a line in here is from another Hellsing fanfiction. It's the one about the 'good pair of legs and set of soft beasts,' I couldn't think of anything else.

**Hints—**Next, I plan to increase the tension…especially between Integra and Maxwell. Maybe some sexual tension. I am not an IXM fan; but, you know that Maxwell likes/hates her. There is possible chemistry. I picture him a modern-day Claude Frollo. OH! The Bloody Baroness is taken from Vampire Hunter D but I have added some of my more personal twists on her. Total bitch. You will see her in later chapters. Alucard and her had a history…once upon a time.

My readers, my friend Mad-05 came up with a wicked and dirty idea—Imagine that Alucard turns into Girycard during Bloodlust. He he he he he!!!!! I want to do it, preferably during Chapter 6 or 5. Or I will make it a one shot. If you take it, I will flame it.


	6. Mellowing Night

Hellsing—Bloodlust 

**Disclaimer**—Hellsing isn't mine. So you lawyers can just bite my round booty.

**Synopsis**—Seras talks to the Paladin and Walter puts the Frenchman in his place.

**Author's Note**—Sorry for the delay. I had to fulfill my auntie-duty and spoil my nephew rotten to the core, and then give him back to his mother. In this chapter, I am slowing things down before some chaotic fun.

Ta, 

Immortalis

****

_Mellowing Night _ _Monsters and Saints_

_--London, England_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Second floor _

Father Anderson of the Iscariot Agency kneeled down at the edge of his bed with his Catholic-cross in hand. Like the priest he was, he was praying. His olive-green eyes were slightly closed. _Heretics and heathens. _He felt that excess prayer was required. This was his least favorite assignment. The Judas-priest sensed that he was somewhat _tainted_, since he was living in the same house with that _squealing English sow_ and that impudent undead vampire-king. _May the Devil take him. _Anderson murmured softly,"_Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us our daily bread. And forgive us of our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen_."

Knock…Knock. He frowned; after all, Anderson was not expecting visitors.

After a moment the knock became more persistence.

"Ye wait a moment." Anderson opened the door and glanced down.

It was the Police-Girl.

_Another unholy abomination._ She gave him a shy and nervous smile. The expression displayed her fangs, causing Anderson to cringe. The Judas-Priest asked in a harsh tone, "What do ye want?"

Seras swallowed down the building apprehension blocking her throat. It was a thick lump. She licked her lips and played with the corner piece of her hot-pink and baby-blue Sponge-Bob pajamas. _Lord Almightily, she's looks like a child. _Only her crimson-blood eyes gave away her true identity. "Hello…hi."

"I am not a patient man, vampire. What do ye want? Speak Hellsing-dog."

Police-Girl blurted, "Introductions."

Anderson blinked, surprised and slightly confused. _Introductions? What new devilry is this? Introductions. _

She explained, "I want introductions—proper greetings, you know."

He huffed a short laugh. "Surely ye jest."

Seras wrinkled her brow. "No. Not really. May I come in? I won't take up much of your time. I swear." Anderson stepped to side and waited. She wasn't moving. "I am not human. You have to invite me in."

_Yes indeed! _"Be me guest," he scoffed.

"Thanks." The Police-Girl studied the room. The room was bigger than hers—a bed in the far corner, nightstand, rug and a catholic cross hanging on the wall. "It seems you have—" Her scarlet eyes fell on the blessed blades. Seras recoiled from their presence and bumped into the priest. She exclaimed, "It seems you have adapted, Father—you know, given the circumstance."

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Get to the point."

"Yes!! Yes, of course. I just—well, I realized—I mean, I just realized that you and I never have been properly introduced. It seems every time we 'bump' into each other…there's blessed blades, spiritual barriers, silver-bullets, some battle between you and Master Alucard." She noted that Anderson twitched at the name of the No-Life King. "And considering that you are going to be here at Hellsing…for some time, I thought we'd start brand new…a clean slate."

Anderson replied suspiciously, "Okey-dokey."

"I also wanted to apologize for the little fight we had…down in the subbasement. I am sorry if I harmed you in any way."

He laughed. "Trying to save ye beloved sire? I understand perfectly that—"

Police-Girl shook her head and interrupted, "No. Not quite. You see…I was saving _you_."

That surprised him. "Me?" She nodded. "Really?" Anderson crossed his arms and asked, "And why hasn't he just kill me?"

Seras summed it up quite nicely by saying, "Master likes his fun."

Anderson did not like the way she said that.

Not at all.

"Introductions…" pausing, she cleared her throat and then added, "I'm Miss Seras Victoria—or Police-Girl as Master likes to say…or Miss Victoria to Walter. And you are Father Alexander Anderson, the Paladin of Iscariot. Pleased to meet you." Anderson did not stake her hand, merely gazed at it as if he was examining it.

Anderson sat down on the bed. "That's not all, is it?" There had to be something more.

Seras smiled innocently. She heaved a disappointed sigh and confessed, "No…I am a horrible liar. I couldn't tell a lie to save myself—I did want introductions. I really did. I know I feel a lot better."

"Lying is a sin," the Judas-priest noted kindly.

She laughed. "You sounded just like my father." Suddenly her glaze fell to the floor. It was saddened expression and she mumbled softly, "I really miss him." Clearing her throat she replied strongly, "No. That's not all. I was wondering—this sounds so bloody stupid. I was wondering if I could possibly borrow a bible."

A sharp gasped escaped him. He never would expect that from her. Anderson raised a suspicious eyebrow. "The Holy Bible."

She nodded her head vigorously. "Yep! Here's the thing" Seras sat down next to him and explained, "—you will think me a silly girl but—you see, every Christmas…it was family tradition—we read the Bible. The section about the birth of Christ…Bethlehem, the three wise men…the Virgin Mary…you know, the whole story. And ever since my," she paused, searching for the proper word. "_Change_…I have been falling behind. Missed last Christmas killing ghouls. I would like to continue the tradition. Nobody wants to do it with me…

"Alucard laughed in my face…Walter might…Integra said nothing—and Pip! I am not even going to ask him."

If possible Anderson would not help but to feel a stab of pity for the poor fledging. She was alone and damned. He wondered if the choice was truly hers. Feeling slightly uncomfortable by the distance between them, he stood to his feet and faced her. "So ye don't believe in Santie Clause?" He half-expected her to say yes, especially since she was dressed in that loud and ridiculous outfit.

"I think you mean Santa." A series of giggles escaped her. She blushed rosy pink. "No. I never did."

_Hellsing-dog I won't be fooled. _No! He was Iscariot and with God. Anderson was a priestly man who would not be sympathetic with the undead. "You are a monster."

Seras blinked and stammered, "Wh—what?"

Anderson advanced towards the trembling vampire. He towered over her petite frame. His shadow covered her, leaving her staring up at his face. "Ye heard me. Ye are a monster. A heathen. A devil under the misguided leadership of a Protestant-whore!"

Victoria fumed. "How dare you talk about Sir Integra that way!!!" Police-Girl pointed an accusing finger into his chest. She shoved him with little more than minimal effort. _Strong for a fledging. Must have inherited the Nosferatu's ability. _"How dare you! She is a good woman. A good person with—with a heart of gold! She is fearless—"

He rolled his eyes and added, "Or foolish."

"And loyal."

Anderson smirked, rolling his olive eyes. "To a fault"

"How could you! You…You!" Victoria proposed, "Maxwell's a leech!"

"What?" Anderson raged. _How dare she! _

Seras defiantly crossed her arms. "You heard me. And he's not a virgin—I can smell it on him."

Beats of silenced echoed between them. Simultaneously Seras Victoria and the Paladin of Iscariot yelled, "You _monster!!_"

Tears swelled up in your eyes, spilling down her cheeks and falling on the lapel of her pajama bottoms. "I am not a monster! I am not!!" Anderson only smirked doubtfully at her.

She inhaled a breath of courage and continued in a stern voice almost matching that of Sir Integra, "You want to know something Father Anderson—listen to me, you bloody git! Hey! I am talking to you! It's you…_you _are the monster. I am more human than you, Judas-Priest. You are an unfeeling cad!"

"Sure you preach but I have seen the way you look at _her_. The other Iscariot member. Don't think I can't notice. I have seen it. Alexander, you like her. You are the monster. You feel nothing. Absolutely nothing—nothing but hate. Just like Master Alucard!!!

"You are a bad man, Anderson."

It was too much.

In a pique of despair and building frustration, and before Father Anderson could protest or intervene, Seras Victoria seized the Holy Bible sitting on the light-stand next to the bed. She embraced it against her heaving chest, hugging the precious item. The silver cross singed and blistered her flesh, but it was ignored. The fledging replied in a sadden tone, "But there's a different between us, Alexander…I refuse to hate you. I remember 'God is love.' And there is forgiveness and redemption…"

**_Two Suitors_**

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--First Floor_

_--Pool Room on the Hellsing estate_

There were only two souls who remained in the Hellsing Library—just the Captain of the Wild Geese and Walter C. Dornez, the retired Angel of Death. On agreement, they decided to enjoy the game of pool that was promised between them. Perhaps even each other's company. Over the short period of their hasty acquaintance Captain Pip Bernadette had grown to respect Walter. He liked the old fart; after all, he was lethal and respectable. It was a hard combination to find.

Damn! And he was good at pool!! _Really good._ The old man was kicking his ass.

Pip blew out a frustrated sigh, studying the pool table and calculated his next move. At Hellsing, any competition seemed to evolve into battle, or at least another World War and the Captain felt perfectly at home. "Third-ball in the Left corner pocket." With his one eye he lined it up and fired the pool-ball towards the pocket. It rattled and fell into the rack. He glanced up, watching Walter clean his bifocal. _Strange, very odd fellow._ Clearing his throat he made a attempt at conversation, replying, "I think everything is going a-okay. Fine—considering everything."

"Truly?" The Butler replaced his bifocal, adjusting it on his wrinkled and weary face. He challenged smoothly, "Than you haven't heard?"

"About what?"

"About the little battle between Lord Alucard and the Paladin."

"Was that what the noise was all about?" Pip asked.

He nodded.

"Damn!"

"And poor Miss Victoria was in the middle of it."

The Captain blinked and inquired, "She alright?"

"A bump and bruise there and here. Otherwise she is well."

Pip could perfectly remember the noise coming deep within the subbasement and Police-Girl's sudden disappearance. He thought that she went the pisser, but then again, the Captain was not sure if vampire had bladder functions. Did they? They drank blood. It has to go somewhere. He nodded in agreement, offering a warm and yet, professional grin. "Yes indeed. I think I was a little late in my estimation."

The Butler raised a suspicious brow.

"I figured…well knowing Alucard—that him and the Paladin would go at it in two days. They didn't even make it to one."

Walter smiled. "Lord Alucard is excessively stubborn."

"I thought he was under specific order from the Boss." Pip referred Integra as 'The Boss." She had the checkbook so she was God to him. Smirking, he took a deep swig of the Russian whisky.

The Butler passed him the chalk. "You must understand Captain Bernadette that there is great unrest and hatred between the Hellsing Organization and the Iscariot Agency."

"Yea, I kind of got that impression," he answered meekly.

"Lord Alucard likes his fun," The Angel of Death added darkly. Yes, Walter would even remember his lust for mayhem and murder some fifty years ago. Perhaps his hunger would never be satisfied. "Somethings never do change, however—I thought Alucard was more sensitive when he was a _girl_."

"What?" Hearing this Pip missed the ball and knocked over his whiskey bottle. He struggled to wipe up the mess with his scarf. He patted the surface semi-dry and exclaimed, "Alucard was girl! I don't get that. That's impossible."

"Apparently not to a No-Life King." Walter giggled. "I must admit Captain Bernadette that the idea still baffles me." He studied the pool table and called his play. The ball rolled smoothly into the pocket, and the next and the next.

Something puzzled Pip, concerning the fact of Alucard, the No-Life King being a girl. He tried to visualize it and just could not. It was slightly disturbing. "I have to ask, was he hot—you know," The Angel of Death gave him a strange look. "_Strictly as a girl_. A female."

"Lord Alucard?"

The Frenchman asked, "Why do you call Alucard by the title of _Lord_. The Boss doesn't. Hell, she usually calls him slave, or pet, or even toy. Besides I have heard Sir Hellsing call him less amiable names. Things that English women don't say. Not very lady-like."

"Their relationship is complex," Walter explained as simply as he could possibly manage. "Many years ago, Alucard was the Lord and master of his land. Actually he was a Count…but here look at him as a girl, then you can judge yourself if indeed he was…hot."

Walter reached into his pocket and pulled out a dog-eared photograph. It was black and white, taken during the 1950's. The photo was of those series-roll that one could take at the local mall for 25 cents. Pip took it and looked at it. There were two figures—one, a black-haired boy with light eyes, a bright smile and wearing a frock coat with a stripped-shirt and tie. The second one—was a raven-hair girl with grinning fangs, long angelic neck and wearing a miniskirt, which displayed her perfect legs and a turtleneck blouse. Together, young Walter and Girycard were laughing and displaying their weapons in causal poses. In one, Girycard pretended to bite Walter on the shoulder, while in another Walter had her caught in his wires. Friends and fellow coworkers…

It was Alucard. One could see it in the gleam of the cat-like eyes.

"Attractive, but _deadly_."

Pip confessed, "Nice combo. Kinda of like Police Girl, Seras Victoria."

Now Walter missed the Eighth-ball completely. He straightened and gripped the pool-stick in a deathlike grip, threatening to snap it in half. "I warn you Captain, keep away from her. She's a good girl. And she does not need anymore tragedy in her life. Lord Alucard got bold and whimsy."

The Captain blinked, surprised by the sternness of his tone and hardening of his eyes. He raised his hands in defense, dropping the pool-stick and chalk. Pip had no desire, none whatsoever to anger the prodigious Angel of Death. Meaningless as his life was, he stilled treasured it. "Hold the phone. I did not mean to insult. If she is yours—if Police-Girl is your gal. I will back off. Back the hell off!!"

Walter frowned. "My gal?" Apparently the terminology puzzled him.

"Your girlfriend. Lover, whatever?"

He placed a hand on his hip. "My young man, does it look like I need or even could _handle_ a girl at my age."

Pip joked, "You handled Alucard…Listen my grandpa once said 'that a young girl can make an old man young.' If you want her, you can have her."

Walter shook his head and pointed to the pool table. "Eighth-ball in the Left-corner pocket." He lined up the stick and sure enough the ball emptied into the pocket that Walter predicted. Pip reached into his pocket and pulled out several English notes. He offered them to Walter and naturally he declined. "No. No thank you, Captain Bernadette. I am not a gambling man."

Pip confessed, "But _I _am. Take it. You won, I lost."

"Just treat Seras right."

The Frenchman shoved the money back into his pocket. "Consider it done."

"Do you like her, or is it purely lust?"

Pip replied, "I am French _monsieur_, I am prepared to die for love."

The Butler gave a sad smile.

Beats of silenced followed.

Walter stared out the window; his gray-blue were heavily glazed and wondering into the distance. His voice sounded terribly grim, "I worry for our future." Pip was never much of a 'worrying man,' since in his occupation he did not have time to worry, but just to get the job done and get paid. Times had changed, however it seemed for the worst. Three weeks ago, vampires did not exist except in fiction and films. "Be prepared Captain Pip Bernadette. They are out there, planning. Things will only get worse for Hellsing. I worry…"

"You and me both, pal."

TBC

Immortalis

There. Did you like it? I wanted to do something other than Alucard, Maxwell and Integra. It was different. Don't you worry there will plenty of Alucard and Integra in the following chapter. Pip has a fowl mouth and I don't know French. I simply love Walter. He is my hero. I do want to write a Girycard and Walter one-shot. Something like…Girycard trying to tempt Walter. I don't know. Ideas are always welcomed.

**Hints**—Next! The Hellsing members are interrogated one by one. Give me some time, trust me, it will be worth the wait.


	7. Brewing Concerns

Hellsing—Bloodlust 

**THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVEIWS **

**Disclaimer—**Again, I do NOT own Hellsing. Get off my fricking back. (gives a bloodthirsty roar and chases the lawyers) Can you tell that I don't like lawyers? Courts are where the lawyers get fat. Ha!

Summary—Things have cool off since Anderson and Alucard's little fight. Iscariot and Hellsing continue to live under the same roof. A simple card game turns into Strip Poker and then into war! Slight humor. Some possible parings. 

**Author's Notes—**Please keep in mind that so far everything has happen all in _about_ 24hours. Everybody will be going to bed. This chapter takes places later in the day. Things have calmed down…somewhat…

AN2—If you see this 'O', there a footnote. Of course you don't have to read it, but it must help. 

Remember…reviews, reviews. I need reviews.

Ta.

Immortalis

_Brewing Concerns _ _Strip Poker, Anyone?_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Pool-room _

_--7:47pm _

Overall, the evening started well until Alucard offered, "There could always be an _accident_."

The Hellsing members groaned. Seras winced, closing her eyes and begged "Don't even say that. Not right now, Master. _Please_…"

Alucard smirked doubtfully at his childe and replied hotly, "Do not get your panties in a bunch, Police-Girl. It was a figment of speech." After a pause he added, "Just a little accident. Besides the Royal Order members are too thicked-skull to see the wiser. Maxwell _might_ be missed, but within the week the sniveling leech will be replaced. Just a small accident…like stray bullets or a bad case of food poisoning."

Pip liked the sound of that, but of course, he liked anything with murder, mayhem and some good-old-fun. Integra shook her head. She replied firmly, "No. That would look great for my record…_'**Report**: all Iscariot agents mysteriously die while investigating the Hellsing Organization_.'" She made him a hard and cold stare. Sometimes she could not comprehend his idiotic ideas. "Brilliant Alucard." Her tone was drenched with sarcasm. "Genius! Why hadn't I thought about that earlier?"

"Perhaps, you too focused on blowing my manhood off," Alucard offered bitterly. "I would rather _never_ repeat that again, _Integra_." He had good reason. It took three whole hours to completely heal himself. The ego of a No-Life King was essential for his well-being. (Like most males. Ha!)

Even during the gravest times and on the edge of the abyss, Integra composed her stern, indifferent and professional conduct. Perhaps it was a dominant Hellsing trait—from Abraham to the last descendent, Integra Hellsing. Her facial expressions were stoic but no masking could hide those eyes. After all 'eyes are the window to one's soul' and Alucard never had a finer view. It was a front row seat. They whispered troubled and rambling thoughts. Her saddened and even distressed sapphire-stone eyes gazed into the endless distance.

Unfortunately by Iscariot's presence, the invasion of the Blood-Bar and the acquiring of Marius Von Montague were postponed. That further pissed Integra off. When she was upset Integra was often violent and the object of her projection was none other than Alucard. Perhaps he liked it.

Walter started, "Sir Integra—"

The Heir of Hellsing interrupted him. Surprisingly her voice lost none of its original tone demeanor, "I do not wish to hear it, Walter. I do not give a damn about Iscariot. _Millennium_ is my concern."

Not convinced he continued, "It is not a matter which can be easily set aside."

Pip exhaled. "Shitfuck. This Iscariot sounds like bad news. Like a fucking cockroach that would die. Their presence will make our investigation harder. More difficult."

"Especially since Sir Integra is not allow to go anywhere without an escort from Iscariot," Seras added.

Walter nodded. "True. Very true. Besides Paladin Anderson will have a close eye on Alucard."

The No-Life King smirked doubtfully.

"_And_ Miss Victoria."

Police-Girl blinked in surprise. "Do you really think so? I mean—I am not even a proper vampire."

Walter nodded. "True…" his voice was harsher when he added, "However, Lord Alucard is your sire…and that rises some concern from Iscariot."

Seras heaved a sigh and slumped low in her seat. Her chin touched the swell of her beast and she mumbled, "I really don't like them. And now we shall be interrogated. What joy!" It was true. Soon after the little war in the basement, Maxwell ordered the Hellsing members to meet him and the other Iscariots for a tête-à-tête. Apparently the little leech had something to say. So here they were since 7 o'clock and still waiting for the Archbishop. He was always late. "Hellsing shouldn't be interrogated. We did nothing wrong. It was _Incognito_. Somebody else is responsible."

Alucard noted that Integra fumbled her bandaged earlobe and refused to make eye contact with him. It was spot where that White-Demon bit her and proceed to suck her blood through the tiny hole, using her virginal essence to summon Set, god of chaos and mayhem. Vampric wounds were difficult to mend and lately Integra Hellsing had seen her fair share.

Integra explained, "Some poor soul must take the fall."

Seras curled her hands into fists. "Bullocks!"

The Angel of Death patted her on the shoulder and at once she calmed; after all, his touch was gentle and almost fatherly. He passed her a kind look. "Calm yourself, Miss Victoria. You shall see…everything will be just fine."

"But it isn't fair," protested the young fledging.

"So…" Pip started, "What kind of questions are they going be asking?"

Integra pinched her sinuses, since she started to feel the painful beginnings of a headache. Her blood hammered through her veins and her brain literally felt like it would ooze out of her ears and pop her skull into a million pieces. Perhaps the bloodletting had finally gotten to her. Great! And Alucard's presence would only intensify the circumstance. "It matters not. Maxwell will manipulate your answers. He will ask questions so he can get the answers he wants. Just say little as possible. Keep it simple."

Pip offered, "Hey perhaps he'll get frustrated and go home."

"Unlikely," retorted the No-Life King.

Like anyone the Frenchman hated jerks. "This guy is a little fucker." He added pointing to Integra, "And oh my…does he _hate_ you. I haven't even met him—but I heard plenty from Police-Girl. Shithead called you a 'squealing-English-sow!' One thing I learned from my granddad is that you never disrespect a woman. Never. What's that one saying…?"

Integra had a good idea what he was referring to but Alucard spoke first, "'_Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn_.'"

Integra nodded. "You have no idea."

Alucard adjusted himself. "I believe that feeling is mutual." Contrary to

Integra, it was possible to argue that the No-Life King hated Maxwell more so than she. "You hate him. I hate him. We hate him."

"I hate to say it, but this _accident _sounds promising," the Frenchman offered.

Integra only smiled. It was rare sight these days. "As much as that sounds tempting and rather enjoyable…it is not a possible road."

The Hellsing band gathered around a small coffee table, playing card-games and drinking either tea, spirits or according to Alucard and Seras, blood was their chosen drink. They often spent time together. Pip and Seras sat on the floor, while Walter remained in his chair. Alucard had moved the love-couch closer so he and his Master could share it. Together, him at one end and her at the other they could stare at each other, whispering and exchanging thoughts. _Or blood offerings. _

Returning to business Integra stated, "Regardless, the plans will remain in motion. We will move when the time is perfect."

Walter interrupted, "I am afraid that we have one problem—the Blood-Bar moves. It doesn't stay in a constant spot."

"Alucard?"

The No-Life King lifted his shoulders impassively. "Don't look at me, Master. Regrettably, I have not been to a Blood-Bar in at least hundred years. No doubt by now, The Covenant **O** has changed the aura. I cannot sense it, not without some direction."

Integra cursed, "Damn."

Walter added quickly, "There is a insider who can offered his assistance."

"Is he reliable?"

"Oh yes. Hellsing has had dealings with him—Remus Grayback **O**." Integra knew the name. "If we acquire his services, Hellsing must meet him tomorrow. I have the exact time and place." The Butler held up a hand-written note.

Integra smiled and added sweetly, "I shall be canceling my outing with the Duchess **O** tomorrow."

Walter blinked. "Truly? I imagine that she will be most displease."

"Tell the wench that I shall make it up with her." The Duchess was a vile woman and some individuals would go so far as to call her evil. After her imprisonment, Integra had become the sole object of her interest. She was royal birth and there would be no way to avoid her.

"I will make note of it. Shall we play?"

Pip adjusted his eye patch and struggled his shoulders. "Fair enough. Ready to play? Hopefully the Iscariot fuck-ups will be here soon."

Alucard closed his eyes and sniffed the air. "Just down the hall, coming to the door."

The room quickly silenced as the solid-oak door flew open, revealing two shadowed silhouette figures—the agents of Iscariot. It was Director Enrico Maxwell, the Paladin Alexander Anderson and Father Renaldo. The Hellsing Organization and Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing were currently under 'investigation,' by the Iscariot Agency. There had always been great dislike and unrest between the two institutes. Besides, now both reside under the same roof. It would not be long before war erupted.

Alucard eyes perked. "What fun we shall have!!"

Integra set aside her cards and pulled Alucard down by his tie. Their faces were a mere inch apart. She could smell the old and stale blood on his lips. "Alucard! Remember you are to be on your best behavior. And that is an order, a direct order. Violate it, and I can assure you that you will suffer consequences. No—absolutely, no untoward comments or profane suggestions. No scaring Iscariot. No harassing the women…that includes Seras Victoria."

The No-Life King blinked and flatly protested, "I object, Integra. Police-Girl is mine! My own personal fledging. That is my given right—"

"I do not give a damn! Be polite to Maxwell. No death threats. I warn you _Count_, I do not wish to add more enemies against our favor. Promise me. _Alucard promise me_."

Alucard grinned darkly as his scarlet eyes bored into her soul. "I have never heard you talk with that tone. Say something else."

Fuming Integra shoved him away. She studied her cards. "Behave or I shall lace your blood with silver."

He mumbled under his breath, "Punishment, you say? Well leather, whips and chains ought to do." Hellsing continued with their game. Yumiko and Heinkel took towards the books. It took every ounce of self-control to conceal his glee when Anderson and Maxwell approached the table. He failed miserable.

Studying the room Maxwell cooed, "Ah indeed. I expect that I would find you here. I thought we would all have a nice dinner together. Introductions are in order."

"Have you forgotten, Maxwell? We have been waiting for your…" Integra paused and added softer, "_presence_ for almost an hour."

"Oh truly? I do apologize." Maxwell noted, "You have nothing planned?"

She heaved an irritated sigh. "You forget Maxwell, Hellsing is under prohibition and our duty is limited. There is not much to do. Or would you care to join our modest party?"

The Judas-Priest closed his eyes in distain. "No. No Miss Integra. I am under order to merely observe and report."

"Hey! I got it! How about Strip Poker," offered Pip, ranking his eyes over Seras Victoria. She fumed, enraged. Defiantly, the Police-Girl folded her cards on the table. Flashing a wicked grin, Pip buttoned one button as if trying to tempt her. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, flashing his teeth. She caught herself staring down at his muscular and youthful physique. Seras Victoria blushed rosy pink.

Alucard tipped his head back and let out a mechanical chuckle.

Walter passed a disproval look at the Frenchman.

Integra rolled her eyes. The mercenary was useful, save but his fowl mouth, suggestive manners and nasty habits. Captain Bernadette was the sort of character who brightened the worst circumstance. He had a dry sense of humor, which bemused Alucard and annoyed Walter. "Director Enrico Maxwell…and Father Alexander Anderson…" she stood to her feet and introduced them to the Frenchman. "This is Captain Pip Bernadette, Leader of the Wild Geese."

At once Pip jumped to his feet and shook Maxwell's limp handshake. "_Merci_. So you all must be the folks from the Vatican. Heard about you, from Police-Girl. You sound…_interesting_."

Anderson blinked. "The Wild Geese?"

"Personal body guards."

Maxwell came to realization. "Indeed. I remember now, all private SAS and MI-6 personal were removal at your…well 'fall from grace.' And now you have hired mercenaries—pagans, heathens and atheists. Pity. I thought the House of Hellsing could sink no lower."

Integra did not miss a beat. "I might have been _removed _of my duty, but I still have enemies—undead and human alike. You know that too well. And besides the Wild Geese are professionals. Next to Peter Ferguson, they are more loyal than any SAS troop or MI-6 personal under my employment. I trust them. And they will never betray Hellsing."

Anderson replied stiffly, "As long as there is a contract. And _money_."

"Naturally with any business," said Pip. "Churches included."

"Indeed," Maxwell leered.

The Frenchman advanced closer, staring down Maxwell's emerald-stones eyes with his one _good _eye. "Bite me, dick-weed. Listen—you don't have to like me. Fuck, I don't like you…but you will respect me." Before Maxwell could comment, Pip turned his back on the Judas-Priest. "Walter! How about another game of pool tonight?"

Walter struggled his shoulders. "Perhaps…I am still out of practice."

"Then I'll be waiting for you…" He asked the group, "Strip poker anyone?"

Intrigued Anderson approached and asked, "What are ye doing?"

"Cards. It's Poker, mate," replied Pip, adjusting his eye-patch and flicking his bangs from his face. Walter shuffled the deck, and Anderson noticed the cards were lavishly decorated with crude drawings of naked-ladies, bearing arms and blades. His curled his upper lip in distaste. Pip cut the deck, and then Walter started to distribute the cards to the individual players—Sir Integra, Seras Victoria, Pip Bernadette, and Alucard. Strange enough, the Angel of Death could wheel his razor wires with lightning speed and, but now he was deliberately slow. Perhaps, time had finally caught up with him. Taking his cards Pip further explained, "The rules are simple, even for a priest—"

"Gambling is a sin," warned the Judas-Priest.

Pip did not even pat an eyelash at the remark.

Beside him, Seras Victoria appeared very uncomfortable, while the remaining party organized their cards. Anderson frightened her. The Paladin had made her cry quarts. The French-Captain lit another cancer joint, blowing the tonic fumes into the air and taking another swig of cheap whiskey. He joked, "Shitfuck! Funny. Look at me. Does it look like I have a problem—or a concern about sin, _Father_?" Anderson wrinkled his nose in revulsion, however Enrico Maxwell seemed tempted to join in on the game, even if it was a sin. "I was under the impression that you…and your Boss didn't give a flying hoot!! I am touched."

The Catholic offered in a sweet, warm fatherly tone, "Do you wish to confess your sins, my son?" He touched his rosemary.

Pip chuckled. "You jest! We'd be here all fucking night—and the next morning. Besides I don't have any plans in getting hammered in my rear, priest. The choice is simple: Play or Piss off."

"Aye, _heathen_. I shall watch. Just observe, not join," Anderson answered, sitting beside the only 'Hellsing-dog" he could stomach, Walter C. Dornez. The former Trashman of Protestant Knight, the aged Angel of Death gave him an inviting and warm smile, scooting his chair to give him more room. He offered the Judas Priest a cup of tea; he humbly declined with a wave of his hand.

His stomach gave a lurch when he discovered that he was sitting across his adversary, the Nosferatu Alucard. The vampire merely grinned, suckling his daily Medical-Blood supply through a straw. Anderson shivered in disgust but mumbling his prayers gave him comfort. Regardless one hand remained on his blessed blades.

"Whatever, cock-bag," mumbled Pip. Hearing this, Seras Victoria choked on a laugh and patted the Frenchman on the shoulder. He blinked in surprised and asked Maxwell, "So what's your choice, homo?"

"Not tonight. I have some private business with Hellsing."

Integra said, "Speak freely."

Maxwell explained sweetly, "Iscariot would like to begin the Inquisition as soon as possible…beginning with face-to-face interview with each of you. Alone." The Hellsing members remained silent. Seras Victoria exchanged a questionable glance at Walter; however clam as always, the Angel of Death shrugged his shoulders impassively and gave a warm smile. It was a simple way of saying, "you will be just fine." Alucard chuckled and disguised it as a violent cough. It was a foolish practice. He mumbled something in his original foreign tongue. Whatever it was, it did not sound faltering. Integra was stoic, while Pip looked slightly confused.

"I believe we shall start with…" Maxwell examined the party of five with great interest. Who would be the guinea pig? Father Renaldo whispered lightly into his ear. "Ah yes…we shall begin with the hired mercenary. Captain Pip Bernadette…"

The Frenchman raised a suspicious brow. "Say what?"

"Come with us."

He exchanged a glance with Sir Integra, who nodded and waved him off. Perhaps drunk on love and booze, Pip was not stupid just silly. He knew the drill—_say little as possible_. He grabbed his bottle, tucked his cigarette behind his ear and reluctantly followed Iscariot.

Seras waved him goodbye. "Good luck Captain."

"Hell, I rather have a good-luck kiss."

Pip puckered his lips and leaned intimately close to her, but her hand shot up and firmly pushed him away. "Perhaps later…"

"Fine—but don't think that I won't collect that promise." Looking at the open door he groaned. Just before leaving Pip glanced into the room and gagged, shoving his middle finger down his throat. He rolled his eyes and disappeared. "Fucking cockroach that won't die."

TBC

Hee yaw!

I hoped you all enjoyed it. I did plan to have Pip's Interview in this chapter, but overall, I thought that it would be too much. Besides, if it is separated I can add more.

FOOTNOTES

1 **O**—The Covenant is secret society composed of vampires.

2 **O**—Remus Grayback is a werewolf. He has had dealings with the Captain and he and Walter have been friends for many years. Alucard does not find him agreeable; after all, vampires are not partial to werewolves. They are not the best of friends. I promise that you will meet him later on.

3 **O**—The Duchess. I have already mentioned the Duchess in Chapter 2 and I must introduce you.

Thank you.

Immortalis


	8. White Lies

**Hellsing—Bloodlust **

**Chapter Title—**White Lies.

**Synopsis—**Iscariot interrogates Pip Bernadette of the Wild Geese, however he makes things extremely difficult. Well…he _is_ French.

Author's Notes— By the way if you should happen to see this—"O"—it means that there is a footnote at the end. However, you do not have to read. That remains _your _choice.

AN2— The members of Hellsing will be interrogated slowly, not all in one day and currently not all in a single chapter. Next is Seras Victoria. I don't think people like reading Pip-focused chapters, but that's too bad. AN3— As requested, Millennium is back. I realized that the nasty villains needed a moment of print. I think I will put Millennium in every other chapter. Don't worry; there will be a final showdown between Hellsing, Iscariot and Millennium. It will be unbelievably sweet. Yummy. AN4—I figured that I am more than halfway with _Bloodlust_—but that does not mean that I am done writing Hellsing fan-fiction. No way. I have several others lined up. _1. __Somniator_ _Cooling Down_ "Untitled" 

Ta,

Immortalis

Read and review.

****

_Evil Stirs and Never Sleeps _

_--South America_

The Major sat down at the dinning table with a knife in one hand and a fork in another cubby fist. He was currently savoring the juicy tenderness of a salmon broiled in sherry and garlic, streamed eggplant, buttered peas and a glass of Chateau d'Yquem. The fire from the lavishly decorated fireplace danced in the golden wine and plumbed on the bones on his face. Like a doctor operating on a patient's flesh, the man cut the delicate meat into long slices and piled them on the back of his fork. He took a bite, savoring the taste and texture on his fat short tongue. It was delicious and scrumptious.

A tall and lean shadow appeared within view. Hands settled in his pockets the cat-ear boy approached and quirked, "Major! Things are rolling perfectly."

"Schrodinger!" The man swallowed the bolus of food and wiped the corner of his mouth. He smiled and replied thickly, "Back so soon?"

Schrodinger beamed like an idiot, shrugging his shoulders and blushing rosy-pink. He curled a honeyed-blond lock around his finger and gave a modest bow. His cobalt eyes sparkled with so much inquisitiveness and brightness that they seem to be precious sapphire stones. "You forget—_I am everywhere and nowhere_." No doubt, that line had to be his favorite motto.

The Major laughed. Schrodinger, after all, was an amusing creature and extremely useful. "Indeed! How silly of me. Come closer my boy. Share a moment with me and tell me all that you know."

He took the Major's honored side. "Section XIII of Iscariot is still present at Hellsing Manor."

"Persistent bunch," noted the commander. "Ever determined to find the Achilles' keel within Hellsing. Narrow-sighted fools."

Schrodinger agreed, but his voice carried a bit of uncertainty, "Hellsing is hanging dangerously close to discovery. They are quick. Sir Hellsing is determined. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn', you know this Major."

"I would expect no less." The Major pursed his lips, thinking about the Master of Monster and the infamous No-Life King. What an interesting combination! There were complete opposites—man and woman, immortal and human, darkness and light, yang and yin—but in a strange sense, they were so alike beneath the fleshy exterior. "Nevertheless I am happy, and as you know it is good to be happy. Soon, I shall have nature's finest achievement beneath my iron fist. Perhaps even an heir, a child. What a glorious child—strong as steel, determined, resourceful and commanding. Order 666 will be concluded either by my son or myself. That is excellent! I am most pleased with the current progress. Doc?"

The anxious man dressed in bloodstained scrubs came closer and replied meekly, "Yes?"

"Pray tell me, is the sermon prepared for administration?" He raised a questioning brow and peered at him through the corner of his eye. His round face was half-hidden in the shadows, so it was hard to identify his expression.

Doc replied evenly, "Almost. It is adequate but needs perfection. Give 666 till tomorrow morning." Lesson one—fast operations proved to be more trouble than help, and often messy.

"I wish to see it."

"I thought you might." Within his six-fingered hand, Doc held a hypodermic needle filled with a cloudy and dark gray substance. Meekly and gently he placed it in the Major's outstretched palm. The mad commander glazed at it with great interest. Finally a triumphant grin stretched out on his lips. "Wicked! Let the games begin…"

****

OoO 

****

**_French Rebellion_**__

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Royal Order Conference Room_

_--3rd floor_

Sucking on his cancer stick the Captain of the Wild Geese, Pip Bernadette followed the agents of Iscariot towards the empty Royal Conference room on the third floor. It was a long journey of uneasy silence and intense dread. Occasionally Paladin Anderson glanced back at him with pure malice and distaste; however, the Frenchman waved and blew him a kiss. The priest fumed, turning a violent shade of crimson-pink. He mumbled prayers and curses under his ragging breath. Pip heaved a bored sigh and paused at the parted door. As if expecting him the door willingly swigged open revealing the richly decorated room and the one chair sitting in the empty space. Since Sir Integra's 'fall from grace' and demotion, the location of the Protestant Knights had been relocated and the room emptied. No doubt, Maxwell saw to that.

Father Renaldo motioned towards the empty chair. Christ, it looked terribly uncomfortable. In truth, Pip half-expected pikes to stick out and poke him in undesirable places; after all, he had read several books about the Salem-witch trails and about the methods of persuasion through torture and harassment. So naturally, the Frenchman predicted the worse circumstances imaginable.

The Director of Iscariot, Archbishop Maxwell ordered evenly, "Seat yourself, _Captain_. The Vatican does not have time to waste."

"Nor I." _Prick! _Swallowing down in nervousness, Pip took a calculated puff and a swig of liquor and then carefully sat down. True enough, the chair was fowl. He mumbled to himself, "Yee haw."

The leech known as Director Enrico Maxwell passed Pip an ugly smile and leaned against the wall, deliberately shuffling through the clusters of papers and documents in his hands. From the crude angle, the Captain could barely make them out, but with much difficulty Pip could recognize 'Top-Secret', 'Section XIII' and other red markings. Hell, there was even his birth certificate! _Things are fucked! _Maxwell heaved an exaggerated sigh, sat at the only remaining piece of furniture, a simple and modest desk. He placed his elbows on the scarred-surface and rested his chin on his palm. The Judas-Director mused sarcastically, "Are you uncomfortable?"

Pip leered, "Smartass! What the fuck do you think? This chair is literally raping me up the ass."

Anderson leered evenly, "It is not made for your comfort."

"No. I imagine it suits perfectly for young fresh chorus boy, Priestie."

The Paladin took a measured step forward but Maxwell's crude order stopped him, "Alexander Anderson! Compose yourself. The earthly agents of divine punishment shall not scoop to such a defiling level. He is a heathen. We are God's chosen instruments of justice. By his favor we shall triumph."

Pip blew a doubtful sigh. _No wonder The Boss hates these pricks. _

"No complaints? Very well…let Iscariot begin with the Inquisition Order 68473." He nodded towards the other Iscariot members. Anderson pressed 'record' on the mini recorder and placed in on the interrogation desk. Yumiko stood beside her Director, sword in hand and an unpleasant expression on her cute face. Suddenly it seemed like she was a completely different person. Her hair was disheveled and there was predatory gleam in her dark-chocolate eyes. Perhaps she was psycho like Police-Girl said. Father Renaldo was standing in the shadow with a pen in hand and a stern look. "Please state your name for the record."

_Jesus H. Christ. This is going to take all goddamn night. Shitfuck!!! _"Pip Louie Bernadette."

"Date of birth?"

Pip wondered why he was even asking; after all, the jerk had his birth certificate in his hand. All the Judas-Director had to do was glance down, but perhaps that proved to be difficult. "About 27 years ago."

"Occupation?" Maxwell continued.

_This is going to bore the living fuck out of me. _Pip found that he wanted a puff of a cigarette but that cute-thing with the glasses took it away. A cigarette was like his bottle, and without it he was going to become one pissed-off, cranky baby. "Mercenary…Professional Hitman…Explosive-expert…Thief…um French."

The Judas-Director snapped, "I asked for your occupation, not nationality."

Pip smirked doubtfully and challenged smoothly, "Being French is a fulltime job."

Maxwell heaved a defeated sigh and waved the opinion away. "Pray let us continue. How did you become employed by Sir Integra Fairbook Hellsing and the Hellsing Organization?"

_Whoa the horses and smack my mama! _Pip wrinkled his brow and explained, "Shitfuck. Is that her full name? That is quite a mouthful." The Frenchman couldn't help but to surpass a chuckle. He mouthed the name, '_Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.' _Why the second middle name? English people were so weird.

"Answer the question," he urged.

Pip yawned. "Walter C. Dornez offered us a job soon after the Valentine-Brother invasion. We took it."

"What were your duties?"

"Secure the area…weapons check…escort The Boss…"

"Paid well," Maxwell asked sweetly.

The Captain narrowed his eyes at the Judas-Director. Sir Integra was right—the leechy fart was going to twist his answers. _I know what you are doing, limp dick. _He replied hotly, "_Oui. _Good enough."

"Any experience with Midans—I mean vampires or ghouls, since the imprisonment of Miss Hellsing."

"_Non_—none other than Big-Red and—"

Maxwell blinked, exchanging a confused look with Father Renaldo and the Paladin. Lifting a suspicious brow he asked, "Pardon, but pray tell whoever is Big-Red?"

"Alucard." _Duh! _The answer was oblivious; but then again, those crazed Italianos were beyond assistance. The Pope had to wipe their asses.

"The Wild-Geese gives out codenames. Makes it easier. You see…Alucard is _Big-Red_…Sir Hellsing is _The Boss_…Walter is _John-Bull_ and Seras Victoria," he replied with a laugh, "is _DD_."

The pen stopped over the paper. The Judas-Director wrinkled his brow and gave Pip a long hard stare with his emerald-stones orbs. He noted nervously, "That is a interesting codename. The other titles I perfectly understand, but I fail to see relation with _DD_ and young Miss Seras Victoria."

Pip was only so happy to explain. In fact, the codename had not been his original idea. Sadly enough the French Captain had no claim to the curious and creative exchange. _Damn! _There is nothing wrong with nicknames or codenames but the ones that the Hellsing Organizations had before were incredibly dull. Peter Pan, Wendy, Tiger Lily and the Lost Boys!? They proved to be different but lacked an artistic feel. Perhaps it was the French ego playing at its finest. Seras Victoria loved her title of Tiger Lily, but Alucard loathed the idea of him being Peter Pan. It was so juvenile. And it was hard to see Integra's feelings about it. She was so unresponsive that it reminded Pip of a statue. Nevertheless, Sir Hellsing permitted him to change the names and happily he and the Wild geese did just that. He explained to Iscariot, "Double-D, you know. Big-Ass-Beasts. Police-Girl got some big canons."

The Judas-Director was silent as the dead.

Blushing, Maxwell laid his pen to the side and exchanged a look with the Paladin, who merely shrugged his shoulders impassively. The agents of Iscariot whispered among themselves. Pip rolled his eyes. _Stupid people. _"It is a fucking bra-size."

Maxwell rolled his eyes and snapped, "I know that."

The Captain crossed his arms and raised a skeptical brow. It was a lie and they both knew it. "Sure. I am sure you did."

Father Renaldo spoke, "We are discussing whether or not if such layman terms are appropriate."

"Shit! Half the things in the world are inappropriate. That's what makes it interesting. Normalcy is overrated **O**. Besides if everything was the same, the world would be impossibly boring."

_Damn. It was going to be a long night. _

OoO

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Royal Order Conference Room_

_--3rd floor_

_--2 hours and 14 minutes later._

The interrogation was horrible and it droned on for far too long. It was absolutely ridiculous, especially the things Iscariot were asking. There wasn't any clock or any inclination of time, so there was no humanly method to see how long this interrogation was taking. He figured about two hours, maybe more. Besides Pip was a fanatic about time. Everything had a deadline—weapons-check, lecture, Police-Girls' daily shower and Walter's pool-game. He understood that Iscariot had a job to do—but this was ridiculous! He wondered if this was not revenge against Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. Catholics hated Protestants, Iscariot sure loathed the Hellsing Organization and Maxwell reviled Integra. That was evidence enough for him. Pip was making that he was going to get that good-luck kiss that hot little Police-Girl promised him. After this mess, he had earned it.

_Yes I have!_

At last Maxwell expressed sweetly, "One final thing, Captain."

_Thank God! _"Yeah?"

He passed a deliberate look with his fellow Iscariot comrades and the Director asked fervidly, his breath was close to breathlessness and he demanded, "As an employee and a fellow comrade…how would you describe Sir Hellsing and Alucard's relationship? How would be define it?"

The answer was rather simple. "Totally fucked-up."

Maxwell blinked modestly. "I implore you to use layman terms, Mr. Bernadette. I should remind you that there is a lady present." He motioned towards Yumie, who still appeared crazed as ever.

He whispered loudly at her, "Oops! Sorry. Pardon my French." As soon as the sentence left his lips and Pip saw the irony, then busted up laughing. _Oh God! That was so sweet! _The Captain giggled uncontrollably in the god-forsaken chair and wiped away a tear of joy. He snuffled lightly, "That was so funny. Excuse me."

Maxwell however, did not find it amusing. "Finished?"

Pip breathed, "Oh yeah."

Paladin Anderson snapped, "This is your final question, Captain. Explain the relationship between the Master and the Monster."

"Truthfully I don't know what to tell you. There's nothing special about it. The Boss is his Master." _Why would you care? The evidence was simple—Alucard was Integra's bitch. _Besides, how would he know? The Wild Geese had not been with the Hellsing Organization for every long. One thing Pip learned well was 'never to bite the hand that feeds you.' Their relationship was none of his business, besides he wanted nothing to do with it. As far as he was concerned, both Alucard and Integra were crazed. He really didn't know anything solid. "But if I were to describe it…well I guess _complicated_ would be a good word. Complex…"

Maxwell was writing even faster now. "Do they do anything that is remotely questionable?"

Frowning Pip said plainly, "I think you mean…are they fucking each other."

"In your crude terminology, I suppose that is what I am saying."

Pip answered fast, "Non. No way."

"And you know this because…" Maxwell prompted eagerly.

"Sir Integra is all about honor, pride and shit. Deeply religious. There is no way in heaven that she would subject herself to that discredit. I mean her granddaddy was Abraham Van Hellsing. She is the descendant of the greatest vampire-hunter family…there is nothing worth more than that and England."

"Plus, she boasts about her virginal status and Alucard makes comments about smelling virginity on her, Police-Girl and—" he paused, but Maxwell encouraged him to continue, "About virginity on Anderson."

The Paladin stiffened and flushed rosy-pink. Yes, the No-Life King mentioned it once.

Maxwell seemed disappointed. "All priests and nuns take an oath of chastity, Captain."

"That doesn't necessary mean that they are virgins. Temptation is a hard thing to resist…and besides if we kept to our promises, you and I would be out of a job."

"True…" he noted sadly.

"Sir Hellsing is a virgin but, personally I think killing ghouls and vamps is how she gets her juices following…Besides I hear Boss and Alucard yelling at each, so I know I would hear them screwing one another. They are uncommonly loud. Nobody I know is quiet when they are…" Pip paused, trying to explain the physical activity not so crudely. "Well…when they are physically entwined—I mean you know what I mean."

"So no?"

"Non."

OoO

**_The Games We Play_**

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Pool room_

_--10:04pm_

"This game is finished, Alucard. The odds are pressing against you," cooed the silver mane Director of the recently fallen Hellsing Organization and former Protestant Knight of the Royal order—and Master of Monster. She raised a fine eyebrow at the No-Life King. Teasing her adversary Integra continued, "Your luck has run out."

Alucard merely grinned, his cunning smile stretching ear to ear. "Oh indeed…" he purred wickedly until he changed the subject, "However, lovely _Countess_…" His pleasure mounted to a new level when he witnessed Integra cringe a little. "You can so ignorant, even proud—it is your weakness. Next to your mortality, of course."

Behind her, Heinkel Wolfe stiffened and stood like a rigid living statue. The No-Life King's presence made her slightly uncomfortable and somewhat tainted. She grasped her cross and whispered prayers under her breath.

A huff of disbelief escaped Integra's lips. "And you can be so stubborn! This is the end."

"I believe Sir Integra may be correct. Alucard, you have fought a valiant battle but it has proved all in vain." Walter heaved a disappointed sigh, followed by a series of snickering laughs. "Just save yourself the embarrassment. Submit."

"You are giving me advice, Angel of Death?" He replied faster now, "However, I foresee a sudden change of events. Perhaps even a change of roles, my beloved Master…so Integra, the question remains 'are you ready for me?'"

Completely unimpressed by his words Integra crossed her arms defiantly. She noted bitterly, "With you, Alucard I always have to be."

Gleefully the Nosferatu clapped his hands, however the padding of his gloves muffled the sound. "Wonderful! Simply wonderful." Alucard inquired, turning to his childe, "And pray tell—what do you think Police-Girl?"

Seras Victoria paused, and then gave a sweet and innocent smile; after all she found herself between a rocks and a hard place. In truth she was not sure whether to side with Director Integra Hellsing or her sire, Master Alucard. "I really don't know—but it isn't over until the fat lady sings."

Alucard seemed pleased. "This is why, I simply love my fledging. So eager, so pleasing to me." He threw a possessive arm around her, gave her a tight squeeze—an expression Seras proposed as a hug. The No-Life King bestowed a kiss on her cheek, causing her to flush pink. Integra however, fumed. Police-Girl hoped it was impatience and not jealously. "Walter, my old friend…do you think that my Seras Victoria could have an extra bag of Medical-Blood? I wish to reward such obedience."

A voice called out, "Hell, I will donate a pint."

Police-Girl jumped and exclaimed, "Captain!"

The Hellsing members grew silent when they saw Pip entered the room. He looked exhausted and slightly irritated. Reaching the table he took a packet of Camel, lit a cancer and took a mouthful of hard Russian liquor. God, it felt wonderful!

Walter asked, "Well…Captain Bernadette, pray tell us how did the inquisition go?"

Pip asked deathly cold, "Permission to blow Maxwell's brain to a fucking pulp?"

Alucard burst into a mechanical laugh.

Integra smiled. "_Almost_ granted, my dear Captain."

Father Renaldo approached the Hellsing group, gave a formal bow to Sir Integra but his posture was crudely closed off and spiteful. He replied sharply, "For the time, Hellsing is excused and dismissed—but the interrogations under Order 68473 will commence tomorrow. Miss Seras Victoria?"

At the sound of her name the poor fledging jumped and asked nervously, "Yessir?"

"Judas-Director Enrico Maxwell expects you promptly at 7:3O. Don't be late."

TBC 

Immortalis

Thank you. Thank you.

First, I must apologize for Captain Bernadette. These things just come out. Sorry if I offended anyone. Next—thank God that this is done. It took forever. I had a real hard time with it, especially with Pip. Next chapter…meet an old acquaintance of Alucard's.

**O **'Normalcy is overrated'

--Immortalis

Yep. That is mine. Say it quite often.


	9. Past Reflections

Hellsing—Bloodlust Disclaimer— ( scream of frustration) AHHHH! I do not own Hellsing. Blast! 

**Synopsis—**Alucard has a meeting with a fellow friend; however, in the past, she was something a little more. She's deadly and bad. Beware the Queen of Illusions…

**Author's Notes—**Okay fine. I admit I got the Bloody Baroness from Vampire Hunter D. If you see this **O**, it means that there's a footnote at the end. It explains in a little more detail.

__

**_Past Reflections_**

__ _The Bloody Countess_ Hellsing Manor 

_Garden _

_3:58am_

Anderson glazed up at the full moon. It was lovely and very beautiful. Besides he needed a break, especially after the interrogation with that atrocious Frenchman. The heathen was terrible with his fowl language, suggestion mannerisms and his nasty smoking habit. Sir Integra employed the foulest and most wicked creatures on earth—the first being none other than the No-Life King himself, Alucard. _Stupid Protestant whore_. No doubt that her vampire pets would surely be her end one-day. Anderson suggested that such retribution would be judgment, but the idea of Alucard free and without a master sent chills down his spine.

Still looking at the twinkling sky he couldn't help but wondered what it looked like at the orphanage. The priest had a soft spot for children, since he was slightly envious of their innocence, curiosity and imagination. They didn't know about the true monsters outside; but, if the people knew what was out there hunting them, they would never leave the house. He loved the children as if they were his own. He was their protector.

But that was the painful reality—he was a Catholic priest. Many years ago, he swore an oath of chastity and Anderson was a man of his word. His thoughts turned to what the Police-Girl had said, '_I have seen the way you look at her._'

Her **O**….

No doubt, he would have made an excellent father and husband; however, his calling was to God.

Tomorrow would be the Police-Girl's interrogation. Just great! Perfect…Perhaps he would volunteer to watch the Protestant-whore and not participate in the interrogation. That would be nice.

The Judas-Priest came outside to clear his troubled feelings. The Hellsing manor was lovely and the gardens were beautiful, but the Vatican was superb. He reminded himself to be patient, "all good things come to those who wait." His peace was interrupted when he saw an infamous figure wearing a red fedora and Victorian trench-coat. It was the Nosferatu. The notorious No-Life King.

He stood peacefully, eyes partly closed and hands in his pockets. Exhaling sharply he strolled through the maze of brushes and paused at the west side of the security-gate. Back against metal he was watching the moon with his arms crossed and sunglasses sliding down his nose. His ruby-stone eyes glaze over the frames. It was a lovely night. The moon was blood red against the midnight-black night sky. Nice combination. Black and red—his favorite specters of colors.

Anderson watched Alucard. _Hellspawn_. Gripping his blades he moved in the shadows, closing in on the vampire and hoping to deal out some divine punishment.

"Tomorrow is another day." Alucard glimpsed back at the Hellsing manor, staring at the East-side balcony, which was Integra's private chambers. The light was still on. Not that it did not surprise him. Despite argument, Integra was an active night owl, more so than Police-Girl. He glimpsed her shadow cross the window and disappear. No doubt, he would pay her a late-night visit when Iscariot was asleep and dreaming. No. On second thought he wanted to avoid her, especially since he had no desire to have his manhood blown off from her raging estrogen levels. It was PMS at its finest. Pulling his eyes away he replied into the silent darkness, "Ah, indeed what a lovely night. Beautiful and exquisite. Would you not agree, my dear old friend?"

Anderson froze, fearing that he had been discovered.

"Come out of the shadows. I can smell you."

However a honeyed soft voice purred, "You know that I could not possible disagree, Vlad."

A figure approached from the shadows, completely cloaked and like Alucard, the individual was partial to the color of red. The figure inched closer, pausing just short of the Iron Gate. Hellsing was blessed. By the stern almost callous posture of the No-Life King, Anderson thought that they were sworn enemies but as they approached, Alucard and his guest bowed graciously to each other. He had even removed his fedora hat and his shades. A quirk smile twitched playfully on his lips. "What a lovely evening! A perfect moon out…My Baroness."

The Judas priest blinked. _Baroness! _This intrigued him. Alucard had often referred his Master, Sir Integra as his Countess. Suspicious he inched closer, staying in the shadows of the Hellsing manor and behind the lilac bush.

A soft laughed escaped the hood. "Witty…very witty Vlad. I daresay your sense of humor remains, even after all these years."

Alucard smirked doubtfully and defiantly crossed his arms. He challenged, "And no doubt your explicit tastes have not faltered. We are creatures of habit." The smile could have crossed his lips for any reason. The vampire licked his chops and paced the length of the gate. The action reminded Anderson of a predator stalking his prey; however, something told him that this figure was not much of a victim. "Time has passed. My Bloody Baroness, I remember…that you an iron-grip over your Blood-Concubine **O**, so, whatever happened to young Laura?"

A growled erupted the night air.

"Upsetting, isn't it? Tell me, she did rebel? Your lessons proved useful, but I imagined she longed to be the master and not the slave. Submission is a pleasing game, but not for her. She grew bold. Pity. How pathetic, Queen of Illusions."

A white blenched-out hand, painted with red nails reached up and removed the hood. Anderson winced. _Vampire. _From the distance this Bloody Baroness was an exquisite creature, her features spelled 'my eyes are dark with mystery, my lips red with passion, my skin is young and smoothed.' A tight bodice constricted her waist, pressing her plump beasts to her collarbone and emphasizing the bustle of her Victorian gown. Red-hair was pinned up and several curled locks dangled down, tickling her back and neck. "Funny. I have never heard you reject my deviant tastes."

Alucard closed his eyes and nodded in agreement. "No. Not really," the vampire confessed.

"And you did not reject me when I offer you a place between my sheets." The Baroness reached through the bars and cupped his face in a lovingly manner, almost sensually. "Your warmth was well-remembered."

Alucard knew her tastes. The Baroness, Queen of Illusions preferred women; but occasionally she invited a man to her bed. Once, many years ago the No-Life King was honored with such a modest invitation. He took it.

She removed her hand and replied icily, "As was the coolness when you left."

He smirked at her. "You were an itch—and you were scratched."

The Baroness was insulted, but hid it very well. "My offer still stands."

"Tempting," he bemused. The smile diminished and he crudely prompted, "And Laura?"

She replied plainly, "Betrayed me."

Alucard heaved a bored sigh. "Wait half a moment. Let me guess…Millennium of the Third Reich?"

The Lady smiled, displaying her fangs with shinning mirth. "Your observations are unyielding, as always. How is the Angel of Death? I can still feel his touch." She brushed back the folds of her cloak, revealing a thick scar lining the edge of her collarbone and traveling down her sternum. "I hope twenty years have not been cruel to him. Since I was half-hoping to have round two with Walter Dornez. Is he still limber?"

"And flexible…but he is _human_ and a mortal. He has aged."

"Oldie but goodie," she replied with a slang.

Alucard returned to the original subject, "Tell me of Millennium."

She breathed hotly, "Millennium! Foolish man. I thought that you would know much more than I. You and the Angel of Death destroyed them more than half a century ago."

"They survived…and thrived." Alucard paused and added, "'_Like a cockroach that won't fucking die_.'"

"The Covenant has acquired the same enemy," she noted bitterly.

"Truly…" He did not sound the least bit surprised or interested.

"I am a messenger from the Covenant and I have business with the Mistress of Hellsing, Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing."

"And pray tell, what is your message?"

"If it pleases your Mistress—she may combine forces and destroy this growing threat," her voice sounded anxious and desperate.

Alucard's face was stoic and he quoted, "_The enemy of my enemy is my friend_." Thinking, the No-Life King paused. "And Iscariot?"

"The Devil with Iscariot! Our alliance lies with Hellsing, not with Iscariot. We can hang Maxwell by his entrails."

Alucard demanded harshly, "First! Before I pass this message to my Master, I want to know about young Laura with Millennium."

"Millennium offered a deal…came before the Covenant. That mad Major!" she raged, baring fangs and eyes flashing dangerously. "Always with that leering grin and those unpleasant eyes. That detestable grin that would seem to split his cheeks. Regrettably, others forgot the Old ways and joined. My Blood-Concubine being one of them. You know these young fledglings today. They are ignorant and arrogant, nothing more than pretenders and frauds. This act of betrayal shall not be tolerated. No one, the Hellsing Organization included, can afford such revelation. Think of it, another World War…

"These man-made things have not the graces of a Nosferatu. They are mindless, rageful monsters. Our existence depends on our ability to blend in—and these creatures will expose the Underground world. Man is a thoughtless mass. They forget the order of the world…earth will plunge into chaos."

Alucard passed her a dark smirk. "Sounds like my typical wet dream."

"This is terribly serious, No-Life King. If we play this game, humans go extinct and we all die out. Not unless you plan on feeding on your blood." The Baroness glanced down at his gloves, at the Hellsing Seal. "I see that you are still bound to the English wench, so she is not yet dead."

The No-Life King paused and raised a suspicious brow, urging her to continue.

"I heard what happened to the Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. I purred with pleasure, lost in ecstasy. I do not lament over her unfortunate occurrence. I wished Laura succeeded." The Countess advanced and asked dryly, "However, I am curious…Vlad, tell _me_, did the whoring cunt bleed, as much as scream?"

In the shadows Anderson swallowed. Maxwell called Sir Integra a 'squealing English sow,' and Alucard threatened to blow his brains in the War Museum. The relationship between the Master and the Monster was complicated. Alucard guarded her ardently, but tested her and mocked her mortality endlessness. The bait was there but Alucard did not bite. He growled, "_Hellsings do not cry_. Be weary Carmilla, I warn you, I have killed men for less. Why are you here?"

She answered, "The Covenant demands your presence."

He was not surprised, not even amused but the vampire was annoyed. "Really, how like them. Regrettably I cannot attend, I am other words, _engaged_." Alucard displayed his gloves, waving the Hellsing Seal in her face.

"I refuse to comprehend your position in servitude within the Hellsing family, especially with that human," she spat.

He joked sweetly, "The situation is not all that bad."

Carmilla fumed. "If you were bored you should have gone with Abhartach **O** to the Trinity Thrones—but instead you chased after that mad Dutchman, Abraham Van Hellsing. Your arrogance blinded you. Your mad pride exposed you. Now, look at you, pathetic No-Life King. Nothing more than a slave. The bitch has taken the Nosferatu out of you. The supply of Medical-Blood has fattened your belly. You cannot even hunt."

A bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Oh I have hunted, just not with permission."

"Seras Victoria…" The Baroness replied tartly.

Alucard cooed, "Is that jealousy that I detect in your tone, Carmilla?"

"No, just disappointment. I know you. I know you too well, I must add."

He smirked doubtfully. "Do not give me that face, Baroness. You know that I like my thrills—no matter how strange or perverted." Alucard let out a mechanical laugh, filling the night air with his maddening cackle. "I trust that the lovely Miss Victoria will be well worth the ride. Her potential has not been touched. Don't worry yourself Baroness, Millennium shall be exposed. This time they will stay in the cold ground."

Even in the dark Anderson could see the smile on his face. It was a horrible expression. Terrible to witness.

Alucard advanced and whispered fiercely, "Before our bittersweet departure…tell me the Secret of Shades."

The question was odd and Anderson wrinkled his handsome face; but the Baroness lifted an interested brow. A sly smile twitched on her fine features. Carmilla was intrigued. "Whatever are you asking?"

The No-Life King went down on one knee and purred wickedly, "I am acquiring your skills, my Queen of Illusions."

"You have my attention."

"The Dreamworld. I want a cosmic place." **O**

_Exposed_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Guest-Chamber of Director Enrico Maxwell _

_--4:34am_

Anderson explained everything between the No-Life King and the Bloody Baroness. He explained it all in great detail.

Maxwell stood, pacing the room dressed in his white pajamas and slippers. His face was gray with intense dread and trouble, but in the same sense the Judas-Director beamed with growing interest. This was a change of events. Never before had The Covenant seek out the Hellsing organization. They, like Iscariot were bitter enemies and now the Vampire-Masters were soliciting their advice and assistance. Normally, vampires were too proud for help so apparently something terribly important was weighting on their minds. It just had to be awful. Maxwell demanded sharply, "Carmilla, you said. The Bloody Baroness?"

Iscariot knew her too well.

Anderson whispered louder, "I saw her with my own eyes. Her and Nosferatu Alucard."

"Together?" Maxwell demanded.

"Yes…"

"Pray tell, how did he act with her?"

Anderson replied sternly, "Friendly but guarded."

"There is some devilry here. Some unforeseen events transpiring." Blinking, and apparently lost deep in thought the Iscariot Director glazed into the distance as an idea plagued inside his brain. Maxwell brushed back his sleek hair while he bemused, "Interesting. Very interesting. I would not be surprised if Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing was committing her own private investigation."

Heinkel protested, "Nein Father Maxwell. The Hellsing has been removed from her duty."

"That does not mean that she would abandon them. I warn you Heinkel Wolfe and Yumiko Takegi—" abruptly Maxwell paused before adding stiffly, "_and Yumie_…"

Behind her thick glasses Yumiko blushed rosy pink. She gave an innocent giggle, which caused Anderson to roll his eyes and give her a sly grin. The nun mouthed 'Yumie is not awake. She is asleep.' Maxwell grimly replied, "Regardless… both of you," he pointed an accusing figure at her and then at Heinkel, "need to be cautious. Be guarded against Sir Integra Hellsing. She may be _fallen—_but she not be trifled with or even challenged. Use all vigilance with the Protestant Maiden." Paladin Anderson nodded his head. Heinkel appeared skeptical and Yumiko rather lost and slightly confused.

"She may be removed from the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, however Sir Hellsing has many comrades. Loyal comrades who will continue to serve her. Their loyalty cannot be tested…such as the Angel of Death, Walter Crum Dornez…then there is the Police-Girl, Seras Victoria…she is," he laughed, "her existence is somewhat marvel. Even somewhat of a joke. Perhaps she hasn't touched her full potential…then there's that mercenary, Captain Pip Bernadette. What's his record?"

Heinkel glanced down at the document. "The Vatican could not gather much. Amazing…for a heathen. Successful missions, minimal causalities. Miss Hellsing chose an excellent bodyguard."

Yumiko replied ingenuously, "Perhaps Sir Integra is innocent against all charges."

"We don't have any evidence to support that," he snapped. "She is guilty until proven innocent. We shall keep a closer eye on the Protestant-Maiden. Do not let her squirm an inch. Think of her as a coiled serpent."

TBC

Immortalis

**O** Her— If you are wondering who Anderson is thinking about, it is Heinkel Wolfe. Yes, I ship AndersonXHeinkel.

**O **Blood-Concubine—is a slave, usually a woman who basically belongs to a vampire Master. She is a donor, so she gives blood and body. Think about a whore but in the vampire sense.

**O **Abhartach— was a vampire in history. Look him up. It might take some time but I can promise that he shall be in there.

**O **Cosmic Place –is a shade or an illusion of the Dreamworld…like your own private place for dreams and solitude. I came up with this. Think about the Hellsing-Amine 10th episode, "Master of Monster"—remember that Integra kind of went back in time to her childhood and Alucard's release. She was remembering…that's a cosmic place. It is almost like a dreamscape. This also hints about my one-shot Somniator. Check it out.

**Challenge**!! I try to open myself to other opinions…and if you are an AlucardXSeras shipper, then please explain to me, _why_? I cannot seem to fathom the pair. I won't get violent for try to change your mind. If I can get it, I am going to write one.


	10. Named and Found

**Hellsing—**Bloodlust

**Disclaimer—**I do not own Hellsing.

**Title**—Named and Found

**Synopsis—**As the investigation continues Walter meets an old friend, or an enemy?

**Author's Notes—**Again if you see this '**O**' it means that there's a footnote at the end. I am going to implore you to be patient. _Please_… My older sister came over for a visit, so my time was occupied. In this chapter there is a bit of humor in this.

**__**

**__**

**__**

**_Named and Found_**

**_Troubled Thoughts and Changes _**

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--North Wing Parlor_

_--1:34pm _

All things considering—despite Iscariot's presence, it was a lovely and perfect day. However it was one of the hottest days of spring, and summer was yet to come and grace England with its hot and humid climate. No wonder, the Romans complained so many centuries ago. Regardless of the time of the year, London was bombarded with hails of fire and ice. (Like Ohio)

The fallen and demoted Integra Wingates Hellsing sat, reclining on the beach-chair with a book in hand; however her thoughts were far from focusing or even taking in the lines of words. Behind her sunglasses, her stressed eyes whispered troubled thoughts and weighted soured options. Her sapphire-stone orbs scanned the same line half a dozen times and she hardly comprehended the passage. It was a fruitless task.

Suddenly Integra was swathed in the shadows and she glanced upwards, staring and witnessing the No-Life King without his infamous trench coat and fedora, save but his orange sunglasses enveloping his ruby-eyes. Even his white and crisp chemise had several buttons popped, exposing his rather handsome and impressive physique. A girlishly white laced-umbrella was resting on his shoulder and balanced by his loose wrist; after all, the sun was harmful and deadly to Midians. Not to Alucard. He was an original and therefore sunrays did little physical harm and just prolonged him to loathe it even more. The expression of the great Nosferatu holding a laced-umbrella was an odd and yet a terribly amusing picture. He was smiling, beaming like a total idiot and his mouth was latched, suckling on what looked like a red Popsicle.

Slightly disturbed by the sight Integra breathed, "Whatever are you eating?"

The vampire pulled the Popsicle out and glanced at it, as if he was noticing it for the every first time. Chewing on his lower lip, Alucard examined the object with grossly exaggerated interest. He impassively struggled his shoulders and replied dryly, "Something yummy." The No-Life King raised a bemused and curious brow. He asked teasingly, "Why? Would you like a lick? Just a taste."

She looked at her stale lemonade with little interest. Integra raised a suspicious brow and said, "Perhaps—but, what is it?"

He cooed feverishly, "A blood-Popsicle. A-positive and fresh out of the Medical supply."

"A frozen Blood-Popsicle!" The Hellsing-daughter exclaimed, smiling. Alucard was never celebrated for his creativity. "How curious! That is different, even for you."

He blew out an irritable sigh. "Oh! Come now, Master. Do you honestly think that humans are the only ones who cannot tolerate hot weather? Besides, this was not my idea. It was Police-Girl's. Walter helped a little." Alucard paused and replied low, "I find that he is very accommodating for my fledging."

It took Integra a moment to ponder his hidden meaning; after all, the vampire often spoke in meaningless and complicated riddles. She intently stared at her pet vampire and challenged, "Pray tell me, what nonsense are you sputtering? Express your self plainly."

Alucard raised his hands in peace and expressed urgently, "Enhance your calm, Master. No need to get hostel—or even violent. I am merely making a notation. Walter may be an aging, but he is still young. There is plenty of flexibility in his limbs and enough spunk." The quick tilt of his head motioned towards the two lovebirds. Walter holding a silver-patter of lemonade was speaking softly with the young Police-Girl. Their voices were low and in whispers. Seras was rosy-pink and giggling like some not-so-innocent schoolgirl. Integra tried to brush aside the image of the Angel of Death and the young Seras Victoria together, but it was too disturbing and slightly insulting to both parties. Alucard merely smiled. "I must say that I am pleased to see him active again."

His Master snapped, "Your speculation is perverted."

The No-Life King glimpsed at her and expressed brightly, "I am merely making an observation."

"It is false slander." She turned her eyes away.

He noticed her fallen expression. "A penny for your thoughts."

"It is nothing," she replied coolly.

"Nothing!" he quirked. "Nothing has chased my sweet Master from the comforts and even _coolness_ of her Manor." Integra refused to respond to him, so the vampire attempted a sultry approach for her attention. His lustful eyes were exploring her two-pieced London-flag styled swimsuit as well as her usually covered virginal flesh. "However, I must remark about your lovely attire. I must give a special thanks to Police-Girl for the thoughtful gift."

Integra smiled dryly. "Savor the moment, Alucard. This is an one time moment."

Alucard tried hiding his disappointment. "You tease me so…"

She noted plainly and closed her eyes, "I am positive that you will survive."

"Oh my! You are bitter this afternoon." Keeping under that safely of the umbrella Alucard took the seat next to her. He rested his elbows on his knees and chin on his knuckles. Integra opened an eye and peered at him. It actually seemed at he was willing to listen and subject himself to her bickering and complaints. Finally she heaved a tiring sigh.

Quoting Shakespeare Integra confessed, "'_Full of scorpions is my mind_.'" Her head fell into her hands and her moonlit strands swathed her saddened expression. She closed her eyes shortly before exhaling an exhausted and physical draining sigh. Gone was her ironclad composure and unyielding stubbornness; however it was only for a moment.

Alucard noted, "You are trouble." Integra passed him a jagged glance, which he replied sharply, "Spare me that look, Master. Your pride and treasured humanity cannot alter your scent. Stress is an exquisite and sympathetic aroma on a woman's flesh." However Integra's glaze was elsewhere. Again, Half-hoping to catch her attention, Alucard gave a dark grin before replying, "It is almost bittersweet."

The Hellsing Heir considered this, apparently weighting the full significance of his meaning. The No-Life King was an extremely difficult subject to comprehend and even predict. No doubt, the vampire believed the same to be with his Master, Integra Hellsing. Despite their oblivious difference the two individuals were very much the same—proud, loyal and excessively stubborn.

After a moment she leered distastefully, "I imagine that it would make your blood boil, Alucard."

The vampire paused, and then huffed a dry mechanical laugh. "Truthfully _Integra_, it prompts a stirring in my loins."

He passed her a wet lusty look. Alucard always made her feel expose and vulnerable, especially now since she was wearing so little. Surely, he relished it. His greedy expression reminded her of a thirsty chicken pecking tears off her face. Without hesitation she said deathly cold, "Removed of knightly duty or not, you will _not _direct me in such a lascivious manner. I am _still_ your Master."

"Yes of course. Anything less would greatly displease me."

The vampire sat down a plate and cup on her lap, nudging her accept them and enjoy his modest consideration. The movement reminded Integra of a desperate dog, trying to please his owner and gain some ounce of loving affection. It certainly wasn't far from the truth. Integra stared at the plate with a suspicious brow. Turning to Alucard she quirked, "A peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk?"

Alucard nodded. "Oh indeed."

A rare-seen smile crossed her lips. "Pray tell me No-Life King, are you tempting to soothe me with a childhood snack?"

Thinking, the vampire closed his eyes and then replied, "I think so."

"Whatever for?" she asked sharply. Integra learned to be weary of his gifts.

"You are particularly violent when stressed and I am the target of your rage." A rare-seen smile crossed her fine lips. Integra turned towards the modest donation; but naturally Integra suspected against anything he offered towards her—advice and blood offering. "You don't like the crust, am I right?"

"Yes…"

Alucard prompted, "But…" There was more.

Integra fingered the sandwich. Her shoulders sagged; pushing the plate aside she replied sadly, "You forget, Alucard. I am no longer a child."

Smirking doubtfully, Alucard pushed the plate back towards her and argued, "On the contrary, I challenged that notion."

"Only you would."

Alucard mused, "What else troubled you so, my sweet Integra?"

"The questions remains…" Integra paused before added, "Who do I trust more—The Covenant or Iscariot?"

Alucard winced and replied bitterly, "A close second place indeed."

She mused indifferently, "I chose between the lesser of two evils." Integra blinked away her thoughts and added harsher, "Nevertheless the circumstances shall be resolved. It is of no consequence. Before it slips my thoughts, I feel incline to inform you that Walter plans on meeting an old acquaintance of yours."

The vampire's face darkened dangerously and with great discontent. He replied harshly, "Remus Grayback…"

"Very good," she said pausing to clap her hands in a mocking applause. _Clap…clap…clap_. Integra could always count on him to remember old enemies. "Indeed, the very person."

Alucard remarked smoothly, "I would not refer him as a person, much less human."

Integra rolled her eyes. "Fine! As you insist, the very werewolf. There! Does that please you now?" He nodded. "Walter shall met him on Mortensen Corner. Him alone, no one else. Today. Promptly at 2 o'clock."

"Is that wise, Master? That is not a nice place."

She answered dryly, "Walter can handle himself."

"Today, you say?"

"Yes. I need you to keep Iscariot busy, especially the Paladin and Maxwell." Reading his mind Integra added, "No battles and no death threats. Just _stall _them." There was almost a desperate tone in her voice.

Alucard took a measured moment to observe her, and then inched closer. "My poor Integra…You are much too tense." Alucard placed his gloved-hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them with his thumbs and fingertips. At first, Integra revolted, recoiling and stiffening against him. The vampire consulted her, whispering seductively against her earlobe. "Must everything I do be revolting? So disgusting, even ghastly? I can be kind, you know. " Finding little reason to object him, Integra eased and leaned against the massage. He coaxed the knots from her back. It was wonderful and so relaxing. Integra decided that she should order him to do this more often; after all, Alucard was her slave. _Integra's Bitch_, as the Frenchman liked to say.

Beats of silenced followed.

"_Miss Hellsing_," came a voice. Both Sir Integra and Alucard lifted her eyes and stared at the approaching figure. It was Director Enrico Maxwell of Iscariot, dressed in his usual priestly garbs and hair sleeked back into a tight ponytail. He wagged a naughty finger at her and protested, "Very bad. You must be hard of hearing. Remember 'no interactions with the Nosferatu Alucard, not without Iscariot's presence.' I hope you have not forgotten."

"You are present now," noted Integra.

Maxwell breathed in the sweet warm air and noted sweetly, "It is a good day."

Closing her eyes Integra noted, "Stay a hour and the weather will change. **O** Alucard, you are excused. Go find that French Captain. Beat him senseless if he is sabotaging the pumping to Seras Victoria's shower."

The vampire gave a modest inclination of the head and left; however he glanced over his shoulder once when Maxwell asked, "I cannot seem to remember, was it a full moon last night?"

The No-Life King replied, "It was lovely."

Once the vampire disappeared Maxwell turned his undivided attention on the Mistress and Master of the Hellsing Manor. "I understand that you canceled your appointment with the Duchess," he said with a measured degree of disapproval.

Like with Alucard, Integra opened one eye and peered at him. There was a stoic expression on his leechy face. She adjusted on the bench, resting and propping herself on her elbow; next, she whipped off her sunglasses and replied evenly, "Is that disappointment that I detect in your tone, Maxwell?"

"Disappointment, discontent, displeasure…Yes! It is." Beaming Maxwell took the other unoccupied end of her bench. His emerald eyes glazed over her lovely and long legs. The Protestant-whore was all legs. He noted that her toenails were painted dark burgundy-red and no doubt, her other vampire pet saw to that. "I am well acquainted with the Duchess and I find her the most charming, most modest and most well mannered of women. She is a royal gem. A most exquisite creature. I am curious; as to why did you cancel your arrangement? Are you truly that busy,_ Miss _Hellsing?"

"I have my reasons Judas-Director and there are of no concern to you."

Maxwell took a sip of his Russian tea, staring at her over the rim of the cup and rolls of steam. "Quite the contrary, I am afraid."

"Inform me, is every aspect of my life in the open? I am harassed by the tabloids enough, including the Royal Order. And now, _you_," she pointed an accusing finger at him and continued, "Iscariot Section XIII, have the audacity to invade my home and my privacy. Forgive the pun, but you cannot squeeze blood from stone. I have nothing to offer you."

"Nothing but the truth."

"Alas if justice was truly blind," Integra replied sternly.

"If your relationship with the Duchess is uneven, than allow me to bridge the gap."

Integra quirked, "I shall keep that in mind."

Suddenly their bitter argument was interrupted.

"**Ta da**!!!" The young fledging appeared dressed in a hot-pink swimsuit that barely covered her boobs and bottom. All eyes turned. Coming out of the house Pip nearly swallowed his cigarette, Walter completely forgotten the function of blinking and for a moment the Paladin forgot about his chastity oath. Maxwell noticed Seras but the object of his fascination was sitting across from him, Integra. True, she was cute but Integra was something different.

"There! I hope that works," beamed Seras Victoria, who was applying the last ounce of sun-lotion on her flesh. It was extra protection and water-resistant. She leaped out into the sun with her hands on her hips, large chest budged outwards and eyes flashing brightly. The action reminded Integra of Peter-Pan. The young vampire was covered head-to-toe in white lotion. There was not a section of her body exposed—even between her toes and behind her ears. Gleeful like a drunken idiot she started to dance in place, swinging her hips, shaking her wide rear and expanding her arms. There was graceful and half-decent rhythm to her modern movements. "_Let's get this party started in here_!"

Anderson mumbled, "Lord forgive me."

Seras approached him and asked, "So do you like, _Father_?"

Pip exclaimed, "I fucking love it!!"

"Pip Bernadette…you sure can run like a gazelle," noted the Vampire-King. Alucard had discovered Pip in the subbasement doing exactly what Integra predicted, that and more. He was whipping the Seras' thons like slingshots and stealing her CDs. Once caught the Frenchman ran like hell. Alucard melted out of the wall and purred, "Interesting Police-Girl." He stopped and took a measured moment studying his quirky fledging. She was amusing as annoying. "Suntan-lotion," remarked the vampire as he peered at the bottle.

"It was Walter's idea." Seras Victoria turned around and blew him a kiss, which he playfully pretended to catch and put in his pocket. She simply beamed. "Brilliant! Thank you."

Integra saw the look between them and her inside froze. "Oh god…no."

"Walter, you say?" Alucard lifted his eyes and purred wickedly, "Well…how kind of him."

"Besides, Walter said you tried it once, Master," she asked curiously.

Pip smiled, suddenly remembering about Alucard's sex change.

Finally the cobwebs brushed aside and the No-Life King remembered. "Ah yes…however, as _I _recall it was a dare, Walter."

"Really, I don't remember that," he joked. "Excuse me, Sir Integra. I must depart for a few minutes. I have some business to attend to," and with that he disappeared from view.

Anderson demanded harsher than intended, "And where are ye going?"

Walter answered as-matter-as-fact, "First to the lavatory, Paladin and then I have some grocery-shopping to do. I believe Heinkel and Yumiko asked me about possibly having spaghetti tonight…so I must get the supplies…" the Butler paused and asked, "Useless you wish to join me."

"Nay, I shall pass." Men and shopping was never a good mix.

Seras squirmed around the pool, pausing to observe the water and the beaming sun. She paced along the side until Alucard asked, "What are you fidgeting about?"

"I know about the whole myth with vampires and water. I don't want to get burnt. Or worse—die."

Smiling Integra corrected her, "Seras…that rule only includes moving water. Like rivers and oceans, not pools."

Pip said, "So…in other words—get that fine ass in the water."

Seras hesitated. "I don't know. I really don't."

Turning away Alucard violently rolled his eyes and pinched his sinuses, keeping the anger-demon at bay. Gathering himself, the No-Life King turned to his childe and gave her a reassuring smile, patting her on the shoulder. Suddenly his gentle touched turned into a rough shove and the vampire pushed Police-Girl into the pool. The poor thing gave out a squeal of terror and sunk into the watery depths. Pip laughed uncontrollable, slapping a knee and holding his gut.

"Ha!" The Frenchman replied to Alucard in a soft tone, "Hundred pounds! Do her DD boobs make her float or sink straight to the bottom?"

Alucard grinned like a demon. "I say sink."

"Float, " argued Pip.

Hidden Things in View 

--London

--Mortensen Corner

Mortensen Corner was an unspoken place. It was only one square mile. Some people referred it as 'down-there' or 'that part of town.' It was an unfriendly place and terribly mysterious. People, like hotheaded punks high on peer pressure and egos often disappeared in the shadows of the street and never seen again. Lost and wonderous tourists were also common victims. Scotland Yard avoided it like the Black Plague. There were well over a thousand missing-persons cases involving the infamous and notorious Mortensen Corner, the Devil's Spot.

London used one perfect word to describe it—evil. All things considering, it was a fair description.

One year, the _Daily Cornier_ or London's favorite and most scandalous tabloid investigated Mortensen's Corner. Five anxious reporters went in and only one came out. The unlucky survivor was administrated in the local loony-house, only to commit suicide by stabbing and hanging. The cornered labeled cause-of-death as 'overkilled suicide.' As for the footage on his camera, the content was so disturbing and twisted that _Daily Cornier_ refused to broadcast it; besides, the Hellsing Organization confiscated the tape. Perhaps that was why the _Daily Cornier _had been so fervently curious and demanding about Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing and her recent fallen was grace.

A lone figure dressed in a bowler cap ambled the street. His pale blue almost gray eyes casually observed Mortensen Corner. Truth be known, Mortensen Corner did not belong to humans. It was a haven for the creatures that resided in myths and nightmares—to them it was named _Aeternus solis occasus_, or Eternal Sunset. The sun never did touch that place.

A low voice growled in the shadows, "You are late, Angel of Death."

In a flash Walter spun on his heel, drawling his razor wires tight and peering into the darkness. The figure stood, leaning against the brick wall swathed in wisps of thick cigar smoke. Within the comforts of the darkness two amber almost golden orbs quirked at him and a row of short sharp teeth smiled at him.

Recognizing him Walter relaxed and said meekly, "I do apologize…Remus Grayback. Mortensen Corner always makes me jumpy. Your forgiveness I do implore."

"Well…knowing the history of this unholy place, I cannot say that I do not blame you." The werewolf smirked doubtfully and remarked, "How coy, dear old friend. As I recall in your younger days that you were never apologetic."

"I have aged."

Remus added, "And matured. You look well." His expression darkened. "I hope you are alone, Walter. I will be most displeased if Alucard is present."

"No. He is not here. Sir Hellsing saw to that personally." Walter smiled but he did not have the time for pleasantries. This was business. "I understand that you have information. I must be quick. My time is limited here and it won't be long before my essence is suspected."

Grayback took one last drag and stomped his cigar into the charcoal ground. The street was covered in a thin ash. Ever since the raging hellfires down below ash fell down from the sky like rain. The werewolf stepped into the faint light. He had shoulder length blond hair and it reminded Walter of a lion's mane, amber eyes, long broken nose and two parallel scars running down and across his eyes. All things considering he looked ruff, since it was a full moon last night. "Believe me I know. Iscariot is meddlesome. I am surprised that Sir Hellsing has not killed them yet."

"The consequence would be more grim." Walter waved his hand and demanded, "The information? This sudden urge to become friendly with the Hellsing Organization is suspicious at best. Surely you can see our reluctance to mix with you. And what of your loyalty to The Covenant?"

The werewolf huffed a choking laugh and exclaimed, "And pray tell, _who _do you think offered the suggestion to expose Marius Von Montague…as well as Millennium?" Beats of silence followed. "Like me, the Covenant is not fond of Marius. He may be older than most, however he behaves like a fledging. And his betrayal will not be tolerated."

Walter adjusted his bifocal and asked, "What betrayal?"

"The same as the Bloody Baroness' concubine. Change in alliance to Millennium. Marius works for them…gives them raw materials for their vampire-freaks, knowledge and test-subjects—humans, and vampires and werewolves alike. He is the reason that the ghouls now outlive their host. Kill the bastard. The sucker would sell anything and everything for pleasure and sweet blood."

"The Covenant is desperate," the Angel of Death noted smoothly.

Grayback smirked. "So is your Hellsing Mistress. Listen. We have never liked each other, but this is not the time to bicker and battle. The solution is clear—we will unite or we shall fall." He whispered harshly, "The Blood-Bar is located at the corner of Mulberry Avenue and Bloomingrove Square. At that distance, the No-Life King will have little difficulty sensing it. Security should not be difficult. Wear the proper attire. But! Be quick with your plans, Walter. Its location there will not last long."

That was Remus Grayback, always straight as an arrow. Walter gave a modest bow and shook his head. "I thank you, my friend."

The werewolf smiled and remarked, "Of course. Happy to oblige. Give my regards to Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing."

Walter started to pull away but Grayback refused to release him. Glancing down the ally he heaved the Angel of Death closer and whispered harshly against his earlobe. His sharp teeth were dangerously close. "Mortensen Corner has eager ears. I feel incline to warn you. Keep your nose close to the ground…the _Captain _stirs with Millennium." Walter may have straightened an inch at the mention of the Captain, but other than that he remained still and stoic. "Besides you have caught the eye of the Mad-Major. That and your Hellsing Mistress…"

TBC 

Immortalis

I gotta get writing. See you.

**O** "_Stay an hour and the weather will change_"—If you live in Ohio, you know this to be painfully true. Yes, as you have guessed I live in Ohio. Lucky me.


	11. Choice or Chosen

**Hellsing—**Bloodlust

**Disclaimer—**I do not own Hellsing. Dude, I am getting so fricking tried of saying that.

Title—Choice or Chosen 

**Author's Notes—**Poor Seras. I hate her in the Amine because she is such a pussy. Thank God, that she finally grew some guts in the OVA. I want Seras Victoria to kick some serious ass. I mean Alucard is her sire so I would think that she would inherit some of his more courageous and bold mannerisms. I want her to be a tough cookie this in interrogation.

**AN2—**Yes this chapter is a bit short.

Immortalis

**__**

**_Choice or Chosen?_**

--Hellsing Manor

--Former room for the Royal Order

--7:24pm

Seras heaved a tried sigh—7:30 came faster than expected and like naturally, the young fledging was a nervous wreak and loathing each step as she approached the former conference room for the Royal Order. She had only been the room once and that was during the Valentine Brother attack, when she and Walter went to the Protestant Knight's rescue. They had hoped to clear out the third floor, but the little bastard, Jan had made thing extremely difficult. Walter was amazing though with his razor-wires and lithe cat-like-grace movements. The old man was still flexible and limber as ever.

"I really _really _do not want to do this—but I have to." Without knocking Seras opened the open and the agents of Iscariot jumped in surprise and at the announced intrusion. "Well…here goes nothing."

The old priest looked like he was having a fatal heart attack, his breath gave in short sudden wheezes and his skin was gray and pasty. However, Anderson was clam and hardly passed her a glance. She like him, were not so thrilled about being there. Maxwell straightened his priestly collar and huffed a short laugh. He claimed hearty, "Ah…Miss Seras Victoria, I am afraid you caught us off guard. What an unexpected surprise." He gave her a formal bow and gestured her to come closer. "Do come in."

Reluctantly Seras took a step in and sighed heavily as she glanced down the 'hallway of freedom,' knowing full well that it might be a few hours before she could see it again, and then closed the paired doors. She faced Iscariot and noted, "You did said 7:30."

Anderson glimpsed at his watched and said plainly, "You are 5 minutes early."

"Early is better than late. I am sure that you won't mind."

Hands behind his back Maxwell remarked dryly, "Indeed. If you would please sit there, we may begin." Pip told her everything so at least she was prepared. Seras stared at the 'ass-raping' chair and it did appear uncomfortable and painful. Truthfully, she expected it to be more sinister—but Pip, like any Frenchy tend to over-exaggerate and embellish certain aspects of reality. "Take a seat."

Breathing in an ounce of courage Seras sat down with a groan and crossed her legs. _Ah, this is much better_.

Maxwell's voice lingered in her head far too long, "State your name for the record?"

"Like you don't already know," she joked. "Fine. Miss Seras Rose Victoria."

"Very good." With a leechy grin he said, "Next question…"

OoO

There was something so terribly wrong with this interrogation. It bothered Seras Victoria to no possible end. It was like you were solving a 1000+ piece puzzle and most of pieces were either missing for replaced with a kiddy portions. Or even like a scratching a never satisfied itch. The interrogation and investigation plagued the young vampire to the point where she was constantly adjusting her position, lifting from one cheek to the other less numb buttock side and chewing on her nails, which was a broken habit from childhood. Seras prized her painted fingernails, but now they were tatted, torn and bleeding. The fledging blurted, "May I say something?"

Maxwell opened his mouth to protest but Seras interrupted him, "It strikes me a bit odd…why aren't you asking any questions concerning the Tower of London incident? Or Integra's Judas? That mystery is the basis for your presence and the Order's investigation—I saw the Royal Inquisition, you know. Why ever are you not asking?"

The Judas Director tapped the pen against the back of his hand and pursed his lips before, exclaiming harshly, "My questions regarding that situation remains towards Miss Hellsing, not you."

The young vampire protested sternly, "I was there. I know what happened!"

He raised a skeptical brow. "Oh, really?" The vampire narrowed her eyes at the Judas-Director and like a rebellious teenager defiantly crossed her arms. Pointing to a pile of vanilla-folders Maxwell noted evenly, "I have read your file Senior Officer Victoria and within great detail and consideration—and I have no questions for _you_."

Refusing to call him by his priestly title Seras said, "You know I think, _Mr_. Maxwell?"

He rolled his eyes and remarked sarcastically, "_Please_, do tell."

"I think that you have the verdict you want and the truth does not matter to you—Integra is innocent, but you will twist it so it seems that she is anything but that."

Maxwell pretended to be surprised and interested but his voice was dry, "That is interesting, Miss Victoria…but it does not have a lick of truth."

Fuming she stood to her feet and exclaimed, "Integra-is-innocent."

"Think yourself as a _pawn_, Miss Victoria. If I want any useful information I shall ask the player of the game. Not the instruments!"

"Fucker!" she raged.

Iscariot blinked at the crude word. Seras Victoria was celebrated for her innocence and not her spoiled language and mannerisms; however, something foreign emerged from her conscience and it was a reflection of her sire, Alucard. The two blood-rubies in her eye-sockets were a manifestation of hell itself. If something touched her they would have found her to be burning hot, not dead cold. The glass of orange-juice in Anderson's hand bubbled and shattered into a million pieces as the room darkened. "Miss Seras Victoria…I must ask that you calm down. Relax," he said with a darkened tone, "_Please_…or I shall restrain you."

A ragged sigh escaped her lips and she sagged into the chair. She mumbled, "I am fine. Just perfectly fine." Anderson raised a skeptical brow. "I'm sorry. Sorry. Hey…if I start foaming at the mouth, then you can freak out."

Beats of silenced followed until the Judas-Director snapped, "Now…Miss Seras Rose Victoria, may we return to the inquisition?"

After that Seras kept the answers very short.

"I have a few more questions and then we are done. Ready?" Chewing on his pen Maxwell started, "Now…Miss Victoria, you used to be human… Correct?" Police-Girl gave a slow nod; after all, Iscariot was anything but predictable. The Judas-Director waved his hand and asked, "Would you kindly explain how you came a Draculina?" Maxwell lifted a curious brow at her with his pen firmly in hand and brushing against the parchment. The expression on his face made Seras want to wipe it off with her fist. She did not like the man; nevertheless she was ever determined to behave and be somewhat respectable.

She winced slight and remarked evenly, "I hardy see what that has to do with your investigation."

"Everything. Answer the question, _please_," he said sweetly. "I shall admit that this is a brash question but I assure you it is purely for our records." He gave her a kind smile.

Seras replied nonchalantly "Do you want all the glory details?"

Maxwell mused, "_Only if_ they are necessary."

She took a deep breath and started slowly, "My D-11 division was called to Cheddar-village. There were some minor difficulties with the priest, who was suspected of murder and other less amiable things… We went in…and it was a single-side massacre. Blood and bodies everywhere." Her voice halted in her throat as she started to choke on coming tears. Ha! Only if Master Alucard could see her now, he would laugh and scold her endlessly. True enough that she was pathetic excuse for a vampire. "I ran away…"

Besides that, she was coward. She repeated again, "_I ran away_."

Clearing his throat, Anderson reached into his priestly robes and pulled out a white handkerchief, offering it to her. The consideration startled Seras. It was so unlike him. During his first night at the Hellsing Manor the Paladin called her a monster. A Monster! And Seras Victoria resented him for his senseless and intensity—but she refused to hate him. Smiling through her hiccups Seras gentle took it and silently murmured her thanks. Dapping her eyes she continued, "The Priest chased me…the fiend was going to rape me and make me a ghoul."

The events played over in her mind like a bad movie—the red-eye priest with blood for breath and lavosuious hands violating her, her comrades as ghouls and the lone figure looming on the horizon, the stranger clothed in red, her savior and her Master. Alucard. She could remember clear as day, dressed in his typical Victorian garbs with that Cheshire-grin on his pale lips. Sure, he was not a knight suited in armor but the No-Life King was her savior. He had saved her and for that service she was eternally grateful. "Then Master showed up, killed him and saved me."

God! She sounded like a schoolgirl with a crush. Perhaps, it was not far from the truth. Alucard had a dangerous, addictive and charming demeanor that Seras found hard to resist and ignore; however he could be terribly cruel and unyielding. He was a bad-boy and girls just love bad-boys.

Maxwell breathed, "Saved you? You said he saved you?" She nodded fervently and the Iscariot-Director smirked doubtfully, crossing his arms and studying her. "How did the No-Life King save you, Miss Victoria?"

"He gave me a choice."

"I am confused. How did he kill the vampire?"

Seras paused. "Well…he shot him through me."

Father Renaldo stepped forward and demanded, "He shot you?"

She unbuttoned the first buttons of her blouse and revealed the pale bullet scar. "Yeah…" she replied not totally sure what they were thinking. "He asked if I was a virgin and shot me. Master said he had choice—"

"No choice?" he huffed a dry laugh and remarked coolly.

"Yes, sir," She smiled, "My master, Alucard, gave me a choice. He left it completely up to me. It was mine."

"Really. You see that baffles me, Miss Victoria."

"No," Seras told him, since she felt the sudden urge to defend him. "I can see how you might think that but—"

Maxwell paused, gave a nod, considering. "Your master, as you call him, is a feared Nosferatu, as you probably know by now. A No-Life King. And yet, I feel it very odd that he would allow you the decision. Alucard is a dominating creature and he is not famous for his pity, compassion, much less mercy towards young, pretty orphaned girls. For a creature who can force as he pleases, don't you think it is beneath him to let you decide?"

She was silent.

"I don't mean to cause you any doubt, Miss Victoria," The Judas-Director interrupted her thoughts, "Iscariot just wants to get a feel of Alucard. He is…well, different, I should say. Strangely—Miss Hellsing, unfortunately, avoids this subject expertly. Why is that you think?"

"I don't think I'm qualified to offer my opinion," she confessed.

"You've never thought of it before, have you, Miss Victoria? Never wondered about it. Were you ever curious, _why_? Why the Nosferatu choose you?"" His voice was calm, "He is a Nosferatu, well-capable of influencing humans to his whim and will. You have never thought that your choice really wasn't -your-choice?"

She answered stronger, "It-was-my-choice."

"Very well. And how does Miss Integra behave towards you?"

The question was so abrupt that it startled her. "Bitter. Harsh—but that's Integra." She surpassed a short laugh. Indeed, that was Integra—unyielding and unfeeling. "She is a woman of steel. Sure, I mean she was a bit mean—"

"Or jealous," commented Maxwell.

TBC

Immortalis

Hee Yaw. Don't you worry; Seras is not going to fall for that lame game. I am really not a SerasXAnderson shipper. I kind he is trying to be a-okay. He doesn't want to be there, so he had to make do with what he has. But I do wonder—why on earth did Alucard make her into a vampire. In the OVA, he says it was a whim. I don't know.

I really needed to get this interview out of the way and done. Sorry if it seems short and hurried. I think I figure about five more chapters before _Bloodlust_ is finished.


	12. Rebellion

Hellsing—_Bloodlust_

**Disclaimer—**I do not own Hellsing. It belongs to the Master, Kohta Hirano. (starts to whimper helplessly and then wails)

**Synopsis—**Integra has to attend a public event with Enrico Maxwell as her escort…and the truth of the Inquisition is revealed.

**Title—**Rebellion, part 1

**Author's Notes—**Thank you all once again for all your comments and reviews. This is the following day. I promise that next chapter you _will_ meet the Duchess.

**AN2—**Again! If you happen to see this—**O—**then it means that there's a footnote at the end.

Immortalis

**_Rebellion_******

****

_Lady-like Formalities_

_--London, Hellsing_

_--Hellsing Manor _

_--Dressing room of Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing _

_--9:48am_

"Bloody Hell!" Again and again Integra fumbled with the zipper. A low and silent curse escaped her lips and then she threw her head back, rolled her eyes and a growl of frustration escaped her. Inside she could hear the Duchess scold, "_That is not ladylike._" This was another perfect reason why Integra refused to wear dresses—too much fucking hassle! Her fingers fell sly, brushing against its cool surface. Walter offered his assistance, but she refused. How hard could zipping a stupid dress be? Again the voice taunted, "_You are too proud, Miss Hellsing._" So close to success, but in the same sense, she was so far away.

She glanced over and saw the invitation, written by the Duchess. "_As a simple request, I implore you Miss Integra to dress formally. Like a lady._"

She stomped her foot like an impatient child, but her ravings came to an unexpected end when Integra felt a cool hand grab the zipper.

Integra was surprised. She raised a suspicious brow at the reflection of the mirror. Naturally she could not see him—since, vampires do not cast any reflection. He was there…

That presence.

She was a bit alarmed that Integra had not sensed it earlier.

It was unmistakable.

Nosferatu Alucard, the No-Life King.

Sensually the vampire zipped the dress, pausing momentary to relish the closeness. He noted that she had not emptied a silver-bullet magazine into his face, or better yet his loins. Well, not yet. No doubt he would pay dearly for this.

His Master hissed, "Impudent bastard! How dare you. This is a direct violation to my privacy. Is knocking such a distasteful practice for you?"

"No. For a vampire, it is such a useless thing."

Alucard breathed in, drawling in her scent. It was simply delicious. Anger fuming, he could hear her blood hum in her Hellsing veins and her breath was stiff and unstable; however, like always her facial expression remained stoic. There was the smell of sweat, cigars and something else on her virginal flesh. He teased, "My lovely Master, I must ask, is that a new perfume? This is a new scent on your skin. It is different." He took another whiff, his nose resting an inch above her skin and his burning eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror.

"Your senses are keen as ever, pet." Integra rolled her eyes. She looked at him through the mirror and replied sharply, "It is currently on loaned from Seras Victoria."

The No-Life King blinked in surprise and took another whiff. A bemused chuckle escaped him, since the notion of Integra wearing perfume and subjecting herself to such lady-like traditions and behavior was deliciously different, even humorous. However it was also odd. This was cheap entertainment. "My fledging, the Police-Girl! How intriguing. That is very quaint of her," he added evenly, "and very _unlike_ you."

She smirked lightly. Heaving a defeated sigh Integra confessed, "As you know, I greatly lack in the femininity department. I may have the title of a lady but my mannerisms are indifferent towards the practice. I am a Hellsing." The vampire nodded in agreement and she said in a lower tone, "Something tells me that Walter, or _you _would not be the better expert."

"Such spunk! Touché." Alucard placed a gloved-hand over his dead and black heart and whispered, "You wound me."

A smile tugged at her lips but then her expression hardened as it always does in his presence. She turned her head, looked at him over her shoulder and demanded harshly, "How long were you watching me?"

Alucard chuckled softly. "Does that disturb you, Master? Does the notion of me watching you make you uncomfortable?" He coiled a moonlit strand around his finger. For a moment the back of his hand brushed over the nape of her neck. Goosebumps popped on her skin and her hairs bristled against the touch and his cold presence. "Even trouble you?"

Integra recoiled. "It vexes me."

The No-Life King gave her a bow. "My apologies Master."

"How long? You failed to answer my question. I may be human but I am not that ignorant."

"Long enough to admire you," he replied darkly. "Besides I sensed that you were distress, so I came."

"Chivalry does not suit you, vampire."

The No-Life King gave an impassive shrug and exclaimed, "How disappointing! What a boring fart you can be!"

Integra mumbled under her breath, "Bite me." His ruby eyes brightened with interest, but she strangled his hope as she replied, "It was a figment of speech."

"Oh really," he cooed silkily. "I would be cautious of what slips out from your teeth, Integra. Never know if what you say I would take to heart, and quite literally **O**."

Beats of silenced followed.

He dropped his eyes and stated dryly, "Is this what you shall wear?"

Integra frowned and studied herself in the mirror. "Why do you ask? Whatever is wrong with it?" It was yet another white-spring dress, which reached to her knees and layered with sheets of silk and lace. The dress had sleeves of translucent material and of course; she would wear another one of those oversized, over styled Sunday hats like the ones wore on Easter. Since the weather was hot she would carry one of those silly girly-laced umbrellas, the same one Alucard had yesterday. Integra had to grace the Duchess with her presence and accompany her to the Curran polo-game; after all, she canceled her modest tea party yesterday. There was no escape from the vile woman.

"You should never wear white—except on the battlefield. **O**"

"How predictable, vampire! White covered in blood." Integra crossed her arms, raised a skeptical eyebrow and demanded harshly, "And pray tell, _Count _what would you suggest?"

Alucard took a calculated pause and sat down on her bed. He bounced up and down, testing the cushion and flexibility. Damn! He could make countless miles on this ride. His fingertips brushed over the pillow, recovering a single separated hair and straightening the sheet. That was one thing about vampires—they are OCD about order and numbers. He replied evenly, "Master, your problem is that you need to get a little _fun_ out of life. After all you are only human, and mortal, I might add. You won't live forever, so take the opportunity to enjoy your short and pathetic life."

"You did-not answer my question?" she noted disdainfully.

He quirked innocently, "I didn't, did I? Well…red or black would be most agreeable.

Black and red—Alucard's favorite colors and ironically, they are the shades of death. Integra snorted and returned to her reflection. She chastised herself for playing along in his ridiculous game.

"Live a little, " the vampire taunted.

Exhausted with his presence Integra slammed down her hairbrush and glanced at his unseen reflection. "Funny hearing this from a man who has been dead for over five-hundred years," Integra spat.

Alucard corrected, "From a man who has been _undead_, Integra."

"Of course, of course."

Luckily, Walter came in. The Butler carried Integra's lace-umbrella, oversized hat and a pair of white gloves with woven designs of roses and vines made from lace, all on a silver platter. It was missing part of her modest and ladylike outfit. Wordless he gently laid everything out on the bed, before giving Alucard a rough shove to the side and nearly knocking him off. "There, Sir Integra. Everything is ready."

Integra asked urgently, "Pray inform me Walter, why am I conforming to this nonsense."

Walter reminded meekly, "It is the duty of an Englishwoman."

And Alucard burst into his infamous crazed laughter. His blood-rubies reflected dangerously in the light and the expression gave him a possessed appearance. He clapped his gloved-hands together in a mocking beat and simply beamed at her. "What a bemusing image for a Hellsing Heir! A picture of elegance…obliging as always…polite…" The list would have continued but Integra gritted her teeth and pulled out a Glock .45 from the dresser. His smiled vanished and she fired a shot at the vampire. The bullet smacked into his shoulder, burying deep inside flesh and bone. He added disappointedly, "And a lady would be modest."

Integra shot him a dirty glance and turned her attention elsewhere.

Smirking lightly Walter plucked the gun out of Integra's hand and added,

"Lord Alucard is correct. A English lady as you are Sir Integra, should be modest."

"I have not the mannerism for such a fickle exercise."

Walter grinned. "Yes, of course my lady." He cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick letter and humbly offered it to her. "I was requested to give this to you and receive a reply."

She studied the letter and a familiar sense of dread washed over her. Snatching it, she opened it. Alucard peered out from underneath his fedora, studying the letter with growing interest. He grabbed the pillow and propped his head on it, his eyes peering over his sunglasses. They burned, reflecting like ruby stones in the light. Integra crumpled the note and mumbled, "Shitfuck! Sniveling little leech."

"Language, sweet Master, " he chastised. "I believe you have taken a page from our own French Captain."

"He is a bad influence."

He heaved an exaggerated sigh inquiring, "Whatever vexes my Master so?"

She threw the note at him. It said in Latin, "_To the Miss Integra Hellsing, I shall accompany you to the Curran polo-game this afternoon, as your escort. Father Anderson will also attend. In addition, I wish to be introduced to English society, mainly as your friend and fellow comrade, not as enemies. The exquisite Duchess Dominique Wallingford, I imagine will be thrilled to entertain us. Regards, Enrico Maxwell." _Alucard sniffled a laugh, shaking his head and ripping the note in half. What a fool! Maxwell's persistence annoyed him and his wandering thoughts succeeded in pissing him off. For a priest, the man had quite the dirty mind. "Would you like me to silence the target? Even the girls."

Integra cursed under her breath and sat down on the bed. "I want to kill him."

"Well…pray tell me Master, whatever is stopping you? I am excellent audience."

She heaved a painful sigh and remarked, "Walter, tell him 'if it so pleases him.'"

The Butler took it as his clue to leave and be dismissed. "Yes, my lady. I shall pass the message. However, I do feel incline to inform you that I shall have my private interrogation around four o'clock. I know the drill."

Integra nodded. "I know you do."

Walter dismissed himself and departed the room.

She took one last look at the mirror and Integra felt as if something was amiss. That Catholic swine! Integra simply hated that name. Maxwell was arrogant, ignorant and annoying. Surprisingly, between the Judas-Director and the No-Life King, she was shocked to discover that she favored the second over the first. Suddenly a thought came to her. Grinning, Integra searched through her top dresser drawer.

Forbidden to glance through her undergarment drawer, Alucard asked meekly, "Now, whatever are you looking for?"

"Not look, but found." She pulled out a small package and opened it, pulling the desired item from its hidden spot. Integra stretched it out. "I feel a bit rebellious today, Alucard."

Wrinkling his brow the vampire approached and studied the item in her grasp. "That is more like it." His eyes brightened and he simply grinned, cooing against her earlobe, "I think I like you rebellious, Master."

OoO

Anderson glanced again at his watch. He was starting to become anxious and impatient. "Women," he cursed. After all, women are such complicated creatures and depending on the time of the month, women could often become emotional, and even violent and lethal. Living at the Vatican and with two nuns on his Death-Dealing team, the Paladin had learned to deal with the clockwork cycle. He learned what not to say and especially when not to say it. Regardless, women were a blessing.

A girlish voice interrupted his thoughts, "But we are _so _worth it…"

The Judas-Priest blinked in surprise and glanced at the owner of the voice. It was Seras Victoria. She was leaning against the staircase, eyes turned upwards and smiling gleefully. The expression reminded him of the orphaned children at Christmas. "What did ye say?"

"I said 'we are so worth it.' I was commenting about your thoughts about women."

"I didn't say anything," he said evenly.

"Sure you did. I heard you, clear as day." She turned to him and then replied softer, "Or…were you thinking it, not saying it?"

"Thinking." So the little fledging had finally learned to read minds. Great, just great. The Police-Girl was becoming more and more like her sire.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. It just tends to happen." Wordlessly, she moved to other end of the staircase, next to Walter and Pip.

Maxwell adjusted his priestly collar and cleared his throat.

Sir Integra emerged, coming down the main-staircase. His breath stopped in his throat. For a heretic and a filthily Protestant, the Knight dressed up very nicely. It was a surprise to see her in something a little more lady-like rather than those hideous and bulky suits. Integra actually appeared more tranquil. Everything was appealing—save but one thing, the _fishnet stockings_ on her bare legs. It was such a contrast against her white spring-dress.

Seras jumped out and took a photo. Integra recoiled an inch and disdainfully closed her eyes—she hated photos, but she determined to let the fledging have her moment.

Walter paled, a thin smile touching his lips. Seras blushed, loving the sight. They were, after all, her present to Sir Integra on her last birthday. --That and her British-flag swimsuit. It was nice to know that it was going through some use.

The Judas Director licked his lips and found his voice, "Miss Integra Hellsing! I must say that—" His eyes were focused on the stockings.

"I know. That we are running late." Opening her hand, the Walter placed the umbrella and laced-gloves on her palms.

"Not quite."

Next, Alucard came down the steps, tossing his fedora from hand to hand. "Oh, of course not, _Priest_." The No-Life knew his unspoken thoughts, no matter how perverted. His eyes raked over him with distaste and distrust. "Some things are better left unspoken."

Slightly hurried Integra said, "Well, let us depart."

Leaving the manor, Alucard winked at Maxwell and whispered, "Have some fun, Master."

She shot him a dark glance before departing through the doors.

TBC

Immortalis

Ha! I hope you enjoyed this, my readers. This is part 1 of the Rebellion chapter. Due to its length, I had to shorten it, but I shall have part 2 up soon. Perhaps three days. I am thinking about five more chapters for _Bloodlust_—but it is not set stone.

You are going to love the Duchess. I had a lot of fun writing her; of course, a majority of her character is based off the evil stepmother of a friend. I got a lot of ideas from Mad-05. She is great.

**O** "I would be cautious of what slips out from your teeth, Integra. Never know if what you say I would take to heart, and quite literally."—This foreshadows my one-shot of Somniator, specifically chapter 4. Enjoy.

**O** "You should never wear white—except on the battlefield."—Again! Another reflection to Somniator. Remember, in the Dreamworld Integra wears a white chemise, which is later, drenched in blood.


	13. Painful Truth

**Hellsing—**Bloodlust

**Disclaimer—**Once again and like always, I do-not-own-Hellsing.

**Title—**Rebellion, part 2

**Synopsis—**While enduring the company of the Duchess, Integra Hellsing discovers the truth behind the investigation…

**Author's Notes—**This is part two of Rebellion. Hee Yaw, baby.

**AN2—**Sorry, it has been some time. I had to work for my brother-in-law and then afterwards I got sick. It was horrible. I wanted to write but I couldn't move. Talk about complete helplessness.

Immortalis

_The Duchess_

_--Wallingford Manor _

_--12:35_

The ride to the Wallingford grounds had been a rather quiet and an uncomfortable drive—with Integra sitting on one side while the Paladin and Enrico Maxwell facing her. It was silent as the grave. No one spoke. No comments about the weather, especially about her sudden rebellious fishnet garments. It was clear enough that the agents of Iscariot did not approve. Integra could sense Maxwell's eyes on her even behind the black sunglasses.

Once the limo stopped Integra heaved a breath of courage and patience before departing into the sun and the mob of reporters at the Wallingford gate. Only a selected amount of credited papers were invited while the remaining crowd had no choice but to wait outside the estate. Wordlessly she pushed through the mass of flashing bulbs and shouting questions—'Miss Hellsing! Any comments about your fallen status?' 'What are your feelings?' 'Were you invited by Duchess Wallingford herself?' 'What are your plans?'

Finally catching up to the Protestant maiden, he grasped her upper arm and led her away, towards the line of British Royal guards. "I must ask you Sir Integra to remain close. Despite our tense relationship, I do wish to protect you." His tone sounded sincere.

"Father Anderson, tell me, do I strike you as a helpless individual?"

A laugh escaped him. "On the contrary. I must say no."

Integra smiled. "That is comforting. You know, I am no a child."

The Curran polo-game had been held at the Wallingford grounds, since the Duchess was an active social creature and long to restate herself within the aristocratic community.

They found their way easy enough—or rather the Butler, Austin discovered them and led them towards the shady spot. It was reserved for the host of the Curran polo-game and the mistress of the Wallingford estate. The spot had the finest view of the game. Four richly dressed Indian servants stood erect at each corner of the lavishly decorated tent. Their faces were stoic and ever obedient. Inside, each honored individual had ostrich fans in hand and a cup of herbal tea on china. The Duchess had just returned from a rather extensive trip to New Delhi and Hong Kong after examining her personal cotton and silk fields. Her century old family business was flourishing and no doubt, she wanted to flaunt her wealth and influence to her fellow English acquaintances.

The manservant approached the tent and exclaimed, "Duchess Wallingford…I present Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing."

The Duchess was a rather fat, or plump woman who wore far too much makeup and over-embellished jewelry. Her dark curly hair was pinned up allowing a few corkscrewed strands to touch her broad, pork roast shoulders. She appeared as if she wore build-in shoulder-pads in everything; however or regrettably, it was all-natural. Looking at her photo, Pip once stated that she looked like a professional linebacker. As for her face—well, people remarked that she had been in an axe fight and lost. She had frog-like eyes. The Duchess was heavily pear-shape; however, if she bent over, there would be great sex appeal from a bull. Imagine a troll in a dress. Despite her fine pedigree and wealth, the Duchess was not graced by the good-looks fairy. **O**

Her expression hardened for a moment. A distasteful sneer wrinkled her short pudgy nose, as if Integra's Protestant presence waffled in the air like a foul and revolting odor. The Duchess, after all was a devout Catholic.

When she spoke, her tiny lips hardly moved but her voice sounded like nails on chalkboard, "Miss Integra! What an unexpected surprise! It is a delightful visit. I am so pleased that you have come to grace me with your…presence."

"Indeed," Integra replied evenly. "I believe the feeling is mutual, Madame."

"Lovely! I have been waiting for your company. Before your recent departure, I could never spare you for a modest cup of tea." The vile woman touched her arm. "It pained me that you cancelled yesterday. The Duchess lowered her eyes, apparently studying her attire and the fishnet stockings. A gasp of disproval erupted from the surrounding ladies and they whispered, exchanging glances within her gossip group.

A woman declared in anything but a soft and modest whisper, "Look at that. How ghastly! Apparently her mother failed to teach her the proper ethics of an Englishwoman, " remarked Lady Rosette Marianelli, the partnering henchwoman of the Duchess. "Trollop."

Integra replied coolly, "My mother died a year after I was born."

Next to her Madame O'Connell spoke, "Lady Marianelli, you forget that the late-Madame Hellsing was foreign. Princess Parvati Ramayania was from India in the Delhi Province, I believe. She was not English."

"No wonder," she muttered under her breath.

The Duchess exclaimed, "Your stockings are dreadful, I am a good woman so I shall forgive you. Come and have a cup of tea." Her voice stopped when she glanced at her companions. "Enrico Maxwell!"

The Judas-Director removed his sunglasses and placed them into his front pocket. He smiled at the revolting ugly woman and Integra wondered how he could stomach it. Being a priest, he must have heard deadly sins and seen its aftermaths, so perhaps he had become callous and indifferent. Giving off a squeal of delight the Duchess embraced him and gave his ring a wet slimly kiss. Her drool was like the slime that swathed the walls of hell. "You sly dog! Why, you never breathed a word that you visiting London!"

Maxwell kindly smiled. "I believed a surprise was in order."

"Whatever are you doing in England? I know you hate London."

"_Hate_ is such a powerful word, Duchess. My visit to London is purely business. I am on order from the Pope himself; however I would hate to bore you with the subject. Besides my lips are firmly sealed. Nevertheless, may I introduce a comrade of mine—Father Alexander Adam Anderson." The Paladin gave a modest bow. "A fine man and a even better priest."

The Duchess flickered her thick eyelashes. She exclaimed, "Anyone who is acquainted with Maxwell is a beloved favorite of mine." A short paused followed. "Integra you have required a worthy acquaintance, even if you are a Protestant…" Laughing she glanced beside her and found the spot to be emptied. "Miss Hellsing? Wherever did that girl go? I must give that insolent child a piece of my word. She should be informed about the proper ethics of an Englishwoman. Well! What can I say about a Protestant! I will… "

In addition, the Duchess' chatterbox never ran low on fuel.

Maxwell replied evenly, "Anderson…_watch her and secure her_."

Heaving an irritable sigh the Paladin mumbled, "I am hard on her heels."

OoO

Standing beneath the ageless pine tree, Integra decided that she needed a taste of nicotine, _just a taste_. She placed the cigar on her lips and reaching into her griddle-belt, and pulled out a gold-tinted lighter. With a sharp snap of her wrist, Integra opened it and placed the steady flame to the end of the cigar. The tip glowed lightly, and breathing in deeply she exhaled thick waves of toxic smoke. What a vile woman!

She half wanted Alucard to gnaw on her neck and silence her loose tongue; however, the No-Life King would have difficulty finding a good vein through the mass of adipose tissue **O**. Besides, it would probably taste horrible. Once, the vampire had describe in detail about the different tastes of blood, 'all blood is not created equal.' Fat, an overactive sexual lifestyle, drugs, alcohol and a recent meal containing garlic made the blood have repugnant and gagging aftertastes. Enough to make even an ageless Nosferatu vomit and in rare cases, die. The lecture was fascinating and yet, slightly disturbing—since Alucard ended it with another blood offering.

His voice purred tauntingly inside her head, "_The choice is always yours_…"

Damn him.

Damn him to hell!

Again came his voice. "_Have you ever thought about asking me to drink your blood? Have you ever thought about mixing your blood with mine…about becoming more than you are_?"

Had he really read her mind? It wouldn't be the first time he broke the mind barrier and no doubt, it would not be the last attempt. Despite the powerful Hellsing Seal, her mind was an open playing-ground for his sick and twisted games. He lived to mock her sense of pride, duty and of course, her mortality. It had become an infinite tease ever since her interaction with the Baobhan Sith. Integra growled under her breath, "It is _my_ choice…"

Behind her a voice quirked, "I hear that smoking is terribly unhealthy…and unappealing for ladies…Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing."

Integra glanced behind her and heaved a tiring sigh. It was the Paladin, Alexander Anderson. He interrupted, "Ye are cunning fox, Sir Hellsing…slipping away like that…and not making a sound."

Integra replied innocently, "You falter me, Father."

He asked with a frown, "So what, ye went away to have a private moment," then his eyes fell on her cigar, "and a smoke." He seemed slightly disappointed, slipping his hands into his pockets and sagging his shoulders. "Smoking is bad, Miss Hellsing. Very bad. It will kill you. Very hazardous for your health."

"Believe me, I know." She took one last puff and killed it. "Alucard loves reminding me."

At the mention of the Nosferatu Anderson stiffened. He offered his arm and said, "Come along. This shall be painless."

"Please, don't subject me to that foul woman."

"I am sure that we can endure it together. Come along."

Bitter Truth 

_--Wallingford Manor and estate_

_--2:24pm _

The polo-game was entertaining. It was an excellent game, but surprisingly the Paladin was engrossed and excited in it. Apparently he had lived a shelter life at the Vatican, since he was constantly asking questions and making comments. Integra did her best to oblige his curiosity, while Maxwell remained silent. He seemed more focused on his prayers than the game. He was continuously fingering his rosemary and priestly collar. His mind was completely separated from his body. The Duchess commented but he explained, "Do not fret yourself over it. It is of little consequence," and it wasn't mentioned again. Regardless, Integra felt his eyes on her.

For a moment—she favored Alucard over the Judas-Director. At least with the vampire she knew what he was thinking.

Once the game was finished, Integra bumped into the other active members of the Royal Order of Protestant Knights. Half of them made excuses to be elsewhere and disappeared towards the crowd. Minutes within their reunion Sir Islands waved a hand towards the champ to his left and said, "I must introduce you to…Colonel Richard Sean Fitzwilliam."

True enough the Colonel was handsome—dirty blond locks, chocolate brown eyes, finely shape cheekbones, board forehead and thin lips. Besides men always look more agreeable when dressed in uniforms. He gave her a slight bow before whisking her hand and placing a gentlemen-like kiss on her glove. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Sir Integra Hellsing. I have heard so much about you."

She tired to smile. "I hope none of the praise has been exaggerated or twisted."

"I do not believe so, Sir Hellsing. I understand that you are an excellent shot."

She raised a bemused brow. "I suppose I am."

The Colonel turned to the two priests trailing after her. "So you are acquainted with Sir Hellsing."

Maxwell gave a leechy grin and replied plainly, "Strictly business."

The Colonel nearly choked on his laugh and quickly disguised it as a violent cough. Short of breath he stuttered, "A priest?" He continued, "I have heard about Iscariot—but I was under the impression that Iscariot and Hellsing did not mix well."

"We don't," she snapped. "Oil and water."

Maxwell fingered his priestly collar and replied fatherly, "Come on, Miss Integra Wingates Hellsing…must you be so rude. There is no need to ruin this splendid day. The sun is shinning out and it is lovely. Time has passed since such heated relations and even still you hold such a grudge. Remember, my _Protestant_-Maiden," he said sweetly emphasizing the word, "as the good Lord said, '_forgive and love thy enemies_.'"

"You will find that am not a forgiving individual, _Judas_-Priest."

"Miss Integra—"

"Don't you peach to me." She pointed an accusing finger at Anderson. "Your Paladin killed Captain Lewis T. Gareth—during a direct violation in Badrick, under _your _orders! Or have you forgotten? He was one of my best men and a personal friend. _Time has passed. _Tell your pathetic excuse to his pregnant widow…"

Maxwell heaved a sigh. He lifted his Catholic rosary, kissed it and replied smoothly, "I shall pray for her." He turned towards the Colonel and exclaimed, "You must be the young commander who just returned from Africa…Colonel Richard Sean Fitzwilliam, am I correct?"

"I am," he said slowly.

"I have heard much about you." Maxwell said, "Iscariot has been meaning to ask you about your report concerning the death of your garrison. It was horrible. Bloodied."

"Like a chapter from Dante's Inferno." His expression fell and his face turned a violent shade of pale green. Then Integra noticed that the discoloration on his face and neck were week-old bruises, and he walked with a slight limp and a raspy voice. He licked his dry licks and stood up, brushing aside all visible emotion. "At the hands of that White-Demon, Incognito…"

Beats of silence followed. "Yes…but that is nether here nor there. The vampire from the Dark Continent is eternally silenced."

The Colonel smiled and then demanded harshly, "How? Who?"

"My pet…my servant, my slave." Integra answered. She noticed how his eyes darkened dangerously. She replied in a low tone, "If it was revenge you wanted, Colonel—than trust me, he screamed and wailed like a newborn babe before the end."

The commander gripped her hand and asked fiercely, "Did he name them?"

Integra smiled. So…she was not alone in this battle. A slight nod escaped her.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, "Excuse me, gentlemen. I am afraid that today's festivities had taken too much out of me and I must retire. It was a pleasure, my lady. God be with you, Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing." And with that the traumatized Colonel limped away with a look of rest and joy on his face.

Integra was lost in her own thoughts.

Within moments Sir Penwood exclaimed. "Sir Integra! What—I mean, what a lovely surprise. I must say that you look well. You will not believe! The recent number of ghoul attacks have increased drastically. Not to mention, the missing persons report—"

Integra snapped harshly, "Please don't bore me with their details, Sir Penwood. My hands are tied. My organization can do nothing. I can do nothing. I am…well, _demoted_ and _fallen_." Her voice was full of sarcasm. "So terribly sorry."

"You will not help the Royal Order!"

"How could I?"

Lord Carnahan held up a hand and silenced his comrade's foolish blubbering. "I know that you long to retake your Knightly duty—however," he added sharply, "You will have force us to make a hasty decision."

Integra laughed and it was not a comforting sound, it was sadistic and taunting. Voice close to breathlessness she choked out, "Force you, my Lords?" The English gentlemen grew silently and the tension rose like black sacrifice to old gods. She continued evenly, "How could I possibly do so? After all…I am a _woman_."

A lone figure interrupted the rising commotion.

Sir Islands silenced the group with a raised hand and stern voice. True the Protestant Knight was not a man whom to trifled with—however, despite his political edge, he was a rational fellow. The elderly man heaved an exhausted sigh and addressed her, "Sir Integra Hellsing. I can understand your frustration."

She challenged, "Truly, you can?"

Sir Penwood swallowed his champagne and took another class. "Merciful God," he muttered distastefully.

"Parliament _and_ the Royal Order would oblige restoring your recently denounce honor and duty—on one condition. A reasonable circumstance, I must add." Integra narrowed her eyes in suspicious and brewing distrust. "Marriage. And the production of a heir." The group murmured in agreement, nodding head and passing pleased, hopeful glances.

"Marriage," she mused plainly as if the suggestion only succeeded in further boring her. "What an reasonable proposition…_however_, my lords—marry who? Pray inform me, who shall be my husband?" None answered now, so Integra paced the group and said, "For some say France and others Spain. Perhaps my matrimony would ease England's tension with our surrounding neighbors. What of Sir Thomas Nicklebroth? Or even Duke Perryton of Wales? They are agreeable gentleman with excellent pedigrees and undying loyalties." Then she replied coldly, "Perhaps Enrico Maxwell should fill my belly with his seed."

Apparently everyone was well aware of the Royal-degree involving Hellsing and Iscariot. "So…I know not how to please you—unless I married one of each."

Several members chuckled lightly.

Sir Fredrick Boyd accused harshly, "Hearsay. How dare you mock the sanity of marriage!"

Integra quirked, "Oh really…Frankly you are not the one to peach to me, my Lord. You having been twice divorced, and currently on your third wife. _And_ a mistress."

He was silent after that.

"How dare you all," she said. "I am not some high prized mare destined to be bred. How audacious, you impudent bastards! Marriage and the production of a Hellsing-Heir. That would agreeable, not to mention convenient for the likes of you and my _Judas_." She studied the crowd of Protestant Knight, hoping to discover her traitor but faces can lie so easily. "Frankly your presence sickens me. I warn you, gentlemen—Threaten me, and I will set my dog on your necks. I shall be the Mistress and I shall have no Master."

A voice interrupted the eerie silence, "I do wonder; however, _Miss_ Integra how you pretend so faithfully to protect the innocent masses…when it's the Devil's den you're sleeping in."

Integra pondered that statement. "I remain puzzled, Father Maxwell. Whatever can you possibly mean? Inform me…"

Maxwell fingered his catholic cross and replied sternly, "Alucard." _Of course. _He advanced closer with his voice close to a whisper. "I heard from a reliable source that the Nosferatu visited your cell during the London-Tower incident…actually every night! That is questionable."

"Do not fret yourself. Nothing of consequence happened." Memories flooded her mind but she hastily shoved them aside. Many filled with blood offerings and mockery about her duty and mortality. "Alucard did visit me."

Lord Carnahan demanded, "Nothing questionable happened, Integra?"

She gave him a what-are-you-saying look. "Curious?" Integra sipped the remains of her champagne. "Of course. I course _Father._ You have come to hear my sins. So this is a inquisition?"

"Yes…Answer the question."

"No. Nothing questionable happened. Alucard and I merely talked."

"About?" promoted Sir Islands.

"It varied day to day…" Her voice carried a degree of uncertainty. Where were they leading with this? The Royal Order never asked questions about Alucard, so why now start? "We discussed the weather…Walter's condition…the ironies of history repeating itself…politics—where the Devil are you gentlemen going with this? I hardly see how this concerns the Royal Inquisition. I have had enough of this prattle. It vexes me."

Integra turned to leave. Faster than what was expected, Maxwell seized her upper arm and for a priest it was surprisingly strong. His grasp was gentle but firm. The look in his emerald-stone eyes was different, almost harsh. He replied sharply, "As imprudent as the Order of Protestant Knights may be…you, Miss Hellsing are ignorant as for the true reason for their concern…"

A revelation occurred to Integra.

"This investigation is not about the Tower of London incident, is it?"

The Judas-Director only smiled.

TBC

Immortalis

Damn! Integra is going to get pissed now. I will I shall have Walter's interview next…then the Blood-Bar, which is going to so-fun!! Don't worry, Millennium is coming up. Let the blood and curses fly.

**O** _The Duchess_—All for you Mad-05. It was all for you. He he.

**O**_ adipose tissue_—is another term for fat. I don't know if you knew that.


	14. Close to Innocence

Hellsing—_Bloodlust _

**Disclaimer—**I do not own Hellsing. None of it.

**Chapter Title—**Close to Innocence

**Author—**Me, of course. Immortalis…

**Synopsis**—The darkness begins to unravel in Walter's interrogation.

**Author's Notes**—This was going to be a one shot and I was going to call it Dominance and Submission—well…. it is the name of the chapter. So, I guess that all is well.

**AN2—**Sorry that it took so long. I was reading _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, and I wanted to relish every word. Fricking loved it. Just perfection, really. Done in about 9 hours. Now…I am starting from the very beginning.

**AN3—**Next is Dominance and Submission, Alucard makes things increasingly difficult. Next chapter might make some time. I shall be going up north to work for my brother-in-law and they don't have the Internet or a computer. Damn!

**AN4—**Again this—O—means that there is a footnote. Have fun.

Farewell,

Immortalis

**Close to Innocence **

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Former Royal Order conference room _

_--4:15pm _

The infamous Angel of Death had been patiently sitting in the 'ass-raping' chair with little to none indication that it was uncomfortable or painful. He sat uncommonly straight, feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. Walter answered the inquisitive and even tedious questions with the slightest ease, using one sentence responds or an inclination of his head. Iscariot had their verdict so bargaining and the truth meant nothing. The situation disturbed and infuriated the Butler, but his rigid training as a retainer and manservant kept him firmly in tow—otherwise, events would be played differently.

Maxwell sat across from him with his greedy eyes and leech-like smile. The man was foul and atrocious; however he was under Royal degree and a guest in the Hellsing Manor. _A real pity_.

Whatever had happened at the Curran polo-games and the Wallingford estate had been awfully grim, causing Sir Integra to storm in and the expression on her face was terrible to witness, and wordlessly she barricaded herself in the seclude comforts of the Hellsing library. Not even the Iscariot guard, Heinkel Wolfe was allowed within ten feet of her. Strangely, the other Iscariot-nun, Yumiko was keen on following Seras Victoria and watching her with one finger on her samurai sword. No doubt, Iscariot was watching Alucard's fledging with great care and interest. Alucard, being the quick and loose tongue individual he is, was quickly riddled with bullets and curses. He laughed, of course. Seras and Pip were elsewhere, and most likely playing poker with the Wild Geese or telling inappropriate jokes and stories.

Last time Walter checked, Alucard was lying down outside the closed door with his fedora over his eyes and hands resting on his chest. He looked as if he adapted the floor as his beloved coffin and waited for his Master. And perhaps for his orders…

Apparently he had received them. The No-Life King whispered against Walter ear, "Tonight. It is tonight, Angel of Death."

Walter had nodded. Tonight, they would taste the fruits of their labor—the Blood-Bar, Marius Von Montague and in turn, Millennium.

Lost in thoughts the Butler hardly heard Maxwell asked, "Walter Dornez…would you say that you are well aquatinted with the Hellsing family, and in term Miss Integra Wingates Hellsing?"

Suddenly, the old Butler huffed a short and bitter laugh then cleared his throat and exclaimed evenly, "As amusing as this inquisition may be—let us stop this useless charade. No more games, Director Maxwell. Ask _your_ questions."

Maxwell looked slightly defeated and grim like a child who had been caught stealing a cookie or a student cheating on an exam. He opened his mouth, however Walter warned, "Remember…lying is a sin, even for a Judas-Priest.

The Judas-Director smirked. He cast aside the 'top-secret' Iscariot reports and brushed the underneath of his jaw, as if he was seriously lost in thought. "Very well…I imagine that the Protestant Maiden has spoken to you." A pause. "Their relationship…and the Hellsing Seal are the subjects of interrogation—both for the Royal Order and Iscariot."

He raised his thinning eyebrows and asked innocently, "And whose relationship would that be?"

"Master and Monster." Maxwell scoffed at him as if the answer was obvious and painfully clear.

The Butler smirked doubtfully. "That is complicated, _Father_ Maxwell. Not even I dare to define and explain it."

"But…you have known them for the longest," he argued. "Been a retainer for the Hellsing family for fifty-six years."

_Had it really been that long? _Walter was not faltered. "As true as that may be, that does not mean that I know everything element of their lives. Even during fifty years and knowing Lord Alucard, I have barely begun to tap the top of the iceberg."

"Than…in your personal opinion—how would you define them?" His pen was pose and ready.

"Quite simply as bittersweet acquaintances, Master and Monster."

Iscariot seemed disappointed.

"Mr. Dornez," begun Maxwell, who removed his reading glasses and pinched his sinuses, "I must ask about something. It has plagued me to no end. Remember when Paladin Anderson and Nosferatu had…well, a bit of a battle…" Walter nodded, since how could be possibly forget? "Miss Integra was displeased." _Oh indeed. _"Alucard made a vague reference about an _incident _between them. Something about having 'Round-two?' I was hoping you would kindly explain…"

The Butler heaved a tiring sigh and murmured under his breath, "Ah yes…that incident." Lifting his eyes he reached into his pocket, drew out a silk handkerchief and polished his bifocal. Doing so, he continued, "That was years ago. About nine years now." Walter adjusted the bifocal and finished, "That particular tale should be told by the players, either Sir Integra or Alucard. I was only a witness."

Maxwell bit his lip. "I am afraid either way I will get the story."

"Is it truly necessary for your investigation?"

A paused and then he replied, "Yes."

"The incident can be simply explained as this—," Walter gave a paused, allowing the tension to intensify and Iscariot to become inpatient. "—_Alucard attacked young Sir Integra_."

Behind him Father Renaldo cried out, "Merciful mother of god!"

The Butler remained unmoved and said, "I only know vague details, gentlemen."

Anderson asked nervously, "Did he abuse her?"

"Broke a rib and arm. Split lip."

"No. I mean, did he violate her?" He licked his dry lips. "Take advantage."

He shook his head. "No. Sir Integra remains unscathed, untouched and unravished. A Virgin—but I refuse to consider the possibilities if I had not intervene."

Maxwell demanded, "What about the Hellsing-Seal?"

"Had not been properly renewed in over twenty years…and," the Butler adjusted his bifocal and continued in a softer tone, "young Sir Integra's physical being had matured into womanhood. That only complicated the circumstance."

"Physically matured," choked Maxwell.

"Moon-blood," he explained. "As the dark Covenant would say…"

"Menstrual…" choked Father Renaldo.

The Butler nodded.

Ah! Maxwell eyes brightened. Cooing like a spoiled schoolboy he noted, "So the girl had turned into a young woman."

"By vampyre terminology, yes! Hellsing blood in the air made Alucard resistant and blood thirsty. I believe, the Hellsing Seal was slowly falling and he seized the moment. It would not be the first time." Walter explained, "More than fifty years ago Alucard attempted to use Dark Wicca and his power to break the bond; however, he nearly killed himself. Besides that, the aftereffects were embarrassing."

Anderson wrinkled his brow and asked, "Meaning?"

"Alucard changed sex."

"He became a girl?!"

"More like a young woman. Of course, not anymore but Alucard can choose which form to transpire. I think he enjoyed it far too much."

"So he attacked her," said the Judas-Director.

"He _was_ thirsty," said Walter.

Maxwell refused to picture it. He held up a hand and replied evenly, "I must ask. Is there any need or concern about the possible exchange of fluids between the Knight and Nosferatu? Blood-offerings?"

Walter smirked and answered, "Alucard offered Miss Victoria…and myself, long ago."

"But of what Miss Integra," demanded Anderson.

His answer was plain and simple, "Not to my _guilty_ knowledge."

The agents of Iscariot exchanged puzzling looks.

"And the Hellsing Seal?" he demanded faster now. "Well over a century ago, Abraham Van Hellsing enslaved an Immortal? Gave him maddening abilities. True, '_the enemy of my enemy is my friend'_—but make no mistake, he-is-still-our-enemy. No matter if humans befriend him. Or how many pretty, orphaned-whores are admitted into his harem. Fruitless errands." Maxwell stood up and paced the length of the room. His face thirsted after information and answers. Days in the investigation and four interrogations left him starving. "But who is Alucard? This nameless No-Life King. Theories are merely speculation at best."

The Angel of Death replied plainly, "Why should I know, Director Maxwell? I am just a modest and humble Butler."

"This is not a laughing matter, Mr. Dornez," he snapped. "Ignorance has blinded the Hellsing Organization. Using evil against evil is a double-edge sword. You must imagine our fear if the Hellsing Seal ever fails or falls. Man's fear." Maxwell paused and took a long calculated breath. His voice was shaking with rage and desperation and when he spoke again, it was mystic and ominous, "'_The Darkness shall rise/ And chaos shall reign/ And hellfire shall engulf air, sea and land/ And the soul shall bleed_...'" **O **

A crack of lightning followed and it started to rain outside.

Walter noted distastefully, "A line from the Black Veil. **O **I believed that would be beneath Iscariot and the Vatican." Maxwell blushed and the Butler warned coolly, "I advise you not to twist the scriptures from the Black Veil. _That_ is a double-edge sword. They are not meant for the human mind or the human tongue. It remains for the Otherworld. Even the Dreamworld, Enrico Maxwell."

Father Renaldo pointed an accusing finger at him and said, "You have read from them."

"Once and never again…" Defeat and regret crossed his face. "Much to my guilty knowledge."

Maxwell scorned, "From the Nosferatu no doubt."

"Don't act surprise, Judas-Director. A Black Veil book is as common on a vampire as its fangs."

"Enough of this prattle—the Hellsing Seal! Everything. There is something about this Blood-Bondage. You shall tell me," commanded Maxwell.

Walter impassively shrugged his shoulders. "Not even _I_ am permitted to know the secrets behind Alucard's enslavement and Blood-Bondage **O. **That remains with the Hellsing-Heir. And no threat, no Royal degree and no favor can sway Sir Integra Hellsing to tell you. She cannot and will not. If you seek to test my loyalty…you shall only succeed in testing my patience."A short pause followed. Perhaps, the old Angel of Death knew nothing.

"The basics are clear… Vampyre society focuses on the concept that '_blood is the life_,' and the currency of the soul, Maxwell. It shall pain you to know that life begins not at the union of sperm and egg—but with the infusion of blood." Iscariot fumed with hatred and rage. In the ill light they looked possessed, with their glittering eyes and bared teeth. Walter remained unmoved by this and continued softer, "I only ever saw one sentence in the great old journals, but that was more than fifty years ago and my memory is rather dull…"

"Yes," Maxwell said in a thick wet tone.

"The one thing. The one enemy against the Hellsing Seal."

There was a short silence.

"_Only broken by the one form that claims all_."

"Which is?" urged Iscariot.

Now Walter smiled and it was an unpleasant sight, almost menacing. "Death, of course."

TBC

Immortalis.

I think this is my shortest one. I wanted to get posted before I left for the week. Don't worry. I shall be brainstorming and be ready by the time I get back. _Close to Innocence was_ a funny chapter to write; then again Walter Dornez is such a fun guy. Like any fan, I want his wires.

Here are the footnotes. You don't have to read them, but they might help.

**O** Blood-Bondage—similar to a Blood-Debt. An exchange of blood under an unbreakable oath and vow.

**O **_The Darkness shall rise/ And chaos shall reign/ And hellfire shall engulf air, sea and land/ And the soul shall bleed_...—this is so mine. MINE! Take it, and I promise that I shall find you. To _Bloodlust,_ it is a line from the Black Veil. The end of the world.

**O** The Black Veil—Book for vampires. Something like the Holy Bible to Christians.

Yes. I make it out that Iscariot does not know the true identity of Alucard—or should I say Count Vladimir (Dracula) Tepes. O-No. Did I just say that? The whole ordeal about Alucard attacking young Integra is my idea. Not in the amine or manga. Just an incident in their tense and complicated relationship.

Be back soon.

REVIEW _please…_


	15. Dominance and Submission

**Hellsing—**_Bloodlust_

**Disclaimer—**I do not have any legal rights towards Hellsing. Duh!

**Chapter Title—**Dominance and Submission

**Author—**Immortalis

**Synopsis—**Between Alucard and Sir Integra, who is the dominant and who is the submissive? Let the games begin…

**Author's Notes**—I am back! Hopefully to stay. I had serious writer's block. In this chapter, Alucard makes things difficult as he always does. Again, this means that there's a footnotes—**O**.

**AN2—**I must personally thank you all that have continued with _Bloodlust _and given me reviews. As for _Somniator_, please me patient. I really do not want to ruin it.

Yours forever,

Immortalis

**__**

**__**

**__**

**_Gods and Devils_**

--Hellsing Manor

--Southeast Wing

--9:47pm

The setting sun could barely be seen over the horizon and hidden behind the golden and scarlet hued clouds; it was if the sun did not wish for night to fall but such things were the order of life and earth—God's design. So, man should not question it. Enrico Maxwell, Director of section XIII Iscariot studied the Hellsing grounds with some interest—the green plains, thick pine woods, the century-old cemetery filled with rotting tombs and crumbling headstones, and the slate sidewalks. It was lovely but in the innate and simple sense. Far too plain in comparison to the exquisite and timeless Vatican and the holy city. None compared. Maxwell impassively shrugged his shoulders, hands posed in the small of his back and eyes resting forward. It would have to do.

He did, after all requested this assignment from the Pope himself.

Hospitality was well, but perhaps a bit bitter and distant. It was clear enough that Hellsing did not favor their presence and much less than their company. The beds were comfortable and the food passable. Everything was amiable save but a few things—the French Captain's mouth, the reluctance to answer questions, Alucard's passing glare and of course, Integra.

On the terrace the Paladin approached him. His fingered his priestly collar and loosened it. For spring it was dreadfully hot and humid. The air was thick. "Things are proceeding nicely, Archbishop. I daresay that the Pope…" he added reluctantly, "_and_ the Queen and the Royal Order will be pleased with our process. The evidence is adequate enough but…" his voice trailed away.

"But?" Maxwell urged. Not facing him as he raised a suspicious brow.

"But it is questionable. There is nothing solid against Sir Integra Hellsing."

_Not yet._

"True, the events to date might tarnish her image. Even her questionable relation with the No-Life King—however England treasures them. I don't like this Maxwell. There must be some unseen deviltry at work here. It smells funny. I feel like there is something foul watching _Hellsing_. What the devil is going on?"

His posture at this and he said, "Who can say?" Then the Judas-Director replied smoothly, "Be patient, Anderson. Do not brother yourself with these restless and troublesome thoughts. God is with us and by his word we shall be victorious. Hellsing shall fall. Since King Henry VIII **O** the Vatican shall reclaim England from the Protestants " Beats of silence followed and then "Sleep well."

Anderson entered to the house and muttered under his breath, "I find no rest in this unholy place."

Maxwell nodded. He could not blame the Paladin, especially living in the same house with two vampires and an atrocious Frenchmen. The Angel of Death was the only decent one that the agents of Iscariot could stomach. Perhaps in comparison to the other Hellsing members he was normal.

Normal? He snorted.

Heaving a tiresome sigh Maxwell continued to stare out into the estate. Retreating back into the house he turned on the spur of his heel until something caught his eye in the distance.

A figure clad in white.

The individual ambled down the path.

At a second glance Maxwell discovered it was none other than the heathen Protestant, Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing, wearing a silk-white robe and her moonlit strands swathed her shoulders and neck from the cool night air. She was even barefoot, which caused Maxwell to smirk and follow the maiden.

It was not long before he lost sight of her.

Hidden beneath the pine trees was a small discreet altar sitting on a pile of slate above the small trickling and man-made waterfall. Candles and licks of incense companied a bronze statue of an Indian god dancing in a circle of flames and darkness. His several limbs were extended outwards, wrists bend and fingers flex in a lithe and majestic pose. An ever-seeing third eye and a crescent-moon crowned his forehead. One foot rested on a disordered image of a demon. The god's body was coated in ash and decorated in days-old necklaces of lotus blossoms and dirtied strips of cloth. Truth to told, it was an intriguing and yet, disturbing piece for the Judas-Priest.

Maxwell inched closer. It was an altar to a pagan god and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Something distress you, Father? You do look slightly pale, even distraught," a voice quirked in the darkness. The Judas-Director peered over his shoulder and there was none other than Integra Hellsing. She stood unaffected by his presence and continued, "It would displease me terribly if you were somehow uncomfortable during your unsought duration."

Somehow he seriously doubted that.

"Your concern warms me," he replied cynically. "They say you are cruel, unfeeling as steel and a spitfire, but such reports are a farce. A lie. You are ever so gentle, warm and kind."

The Iron Maiden smirked lightly. "Mmmm…"

Integra ambled pass him and at the close distance Maxwell could smell the mixture of cigars and lavender on her virginal flesh and silver-mane. He felt himself respond to her scent--his nostrils flared, pupils dilated and his priestly blood rushed to his chastity-sworn section below the belt. He shifted from one foot to the other. It must be a sin. She was a fifthly Protestant heathen, so he should dislike every fiber of her being but yet, he found himself entranced. He was spellbound by her beauty and valor. A poem came to mind, "_Such fireworks as we make, we two/Because you hate me and I hate you._" Perhaps it portrayed the forbidden and ever questionable relationship between Master and Monster. No inquisition by any nation or church would ever solve that riddle.

Maxwell cleared his throat and asked, "As I am responsible for your care I must require as for your sudden departure from the warmth of your house, Lady Hellsing?"

Crossing her arms Integra challenged coolly, "Hellsing Manor is my home. Is it so questionable for the Mistress to take a stroll?"

"A stroll at this time? It is dreadfully late. I do not think that such behavior is deem proper for a Englishwoman."

"Proper?" she quirked. "I daresay you mean traditional. Frankly Hellsings have never been one for socially accepted practices."

That was painfully true.

Integra glanced up at the sky. "It is such a lovely night. The moon is beautiful." The moon was a deep gray and appeared like a ghostly ship on wavy oceans of clouds. The endless sky was midnight black and the soft puffy clouds stood out against the light and dark contrast. "It may rain tonight…"

Maxwell recoiled. She sounded like the No-Life King; but perhaps after ten years of association, Alucard had finally rubbed off her.

No doubt, the young Miss Seras Victoria had started to exhibit some of his traits, even the less amiable ones. Her existence proved to be amusing even a joke but as the faceless Nosferatu as her sire, Police-Girl would not be a force to be reckon with or ignored. Yumie had kept a close and watchful eye on the childe. There would be no mistaking her future ability. The thought crossed his mind, so with Iscariot and the Royal Order that perhaps, once freed that Seras Victoria might be the key element in Alucard's freedom—by Integra's unexpected death or murder. Once the fledging accepted herself she would no longer be bound to the Hellsing Seal like her sire, Alucard. Integra's orders would be meaningless.

Surely Sir Hellsing had suspected as much and maybe that is why the acclaimed Angel of Death, Walter C. Dornez was assigned to her welfare.

The again, maybe Alucard wanted a harem filled with young fledglings.

There were so many assumptions.

Maxwell mused. He remembered that soon after Integra's wrongful imprisonment, the Queen and her Royal Order, and the Pope discussed the future of Hellsing. Since Abraham Van Hellsing imprisoned the immortal vampire, there had always been concerns and speculations. Iscariot shared the same feelings, so the inquisition had been ordered.

"Lost in thoughts Father," she asked with a raised brow.

"I am curious," he mused.

Integra heaved a sharp sigh and replied bitterly, "As always. Some say that curiosity is a sin."

"Pray tell me what is this deviltry?" Maxwell motioned towards the altar.

"Shiva…" she explained as her hand caressed the dark figure. Integra reached into her pocket, struck a match and lit the sticks of candles and incense. The yellow hue gave the statue a glowing and godlike image. Waves of shadows and light flickered across his stoic face but Maxwell swore that the god smiled and glazed up at the star-speckled sky. Integra continued her voice slightly plain, "The dark side of divinity, the power of death and destruction." **O**

"A pagan god," he hissed. "The god of your cold and dead mother."

A flicker crossed her eyes. "As cold and dead as my mother may be, I refuse to insult her memory or the fact that she carried and bore me here."

The details to Parvati Ramayanai's death were unclear. Some say like her Indian's ancestors that she committed suicide by fire, as price for her inability to produce a healthy _male_ heir. Others reply that it was Alucard's doing, but that unlikely since he was imprisoned well before Integra's birth; however that it was not to say that he had some influence over the bride during their short bitter association. Perhaps the cause was more natural, such as a malady or sickness. No knew truly knew.

Parvati Ramayania died two years after the birth of the sickly, female Hellsing heir, Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. So Integra would have no memory of her. None. Perhaps it was for the best.

There was a crack of thunder above them.

Integra asked evenly, "Have you come out merely to question me about my stroll or are you not yet satisfied? Is there something else you seek?"

The question puzzled him. "Such as?"

"My confession…" she mused darkly and the dangerous gleam in her eyes only amplified her deviltry.

A smile crossed his lips. Protestant or not, he would love to hear her confession. Blinking he replied, "Only if you are so amp to give it, Miss Integra Hellsing."

"Not today."

"Than perhaps tomorrow," Maxwell added. "Those clouds look somewhat threatening. Shall you retire soon?"

"Yes…"

"Promise?" he demanded.

"Does the Director of Iscariot trust me so little?" It was not long before the night rolled with a cannonade of thunder. The rain fell from the heavens and tumbled down from the clouds, splashing and hissing on the slate path, the altar, and the small stream. Soon the storm made small mirror-pools that reflected back the lightning flashes. Thick droplets lashed down against her checks and shower herself.

Captivated by her Maxwell did not take cover and was soon swathed in wet rain. He blinked through his wet lashes.

A childish laugh escaped her lips. "My Father said once…that God is in the rain."

A doubtful smirk escaped him.

"If you worship me, am I not God?"

For some reason Maxwell did not like the way that rolled from her tongue.

OoO

**_Dominance and Submission _**

--Hellsing Manor

Already drenched, Integra found it to be futile to find shelter from the pouring rain. Wordlessly Integra watched the Judas-Director return to Hellsing Manor, hands fingering his rosary and his causal glimpse back at her. There was an unreadable expression lining his features and the sight of it unsettled Integra. Again she could never predict his thoughts, which disturbed and made her insatiably curious. She murmured lightly, "A penny for your thoughts…_Enrico Orlando Maxwell._ **O**"

A voice foreshadowed behind her, "Some things are better yet not known."

Integra peered over her shoulder and naturally there was nothing behind her. Just emptiness. She demanded, "Come out from the shadows. I have time for business and not your games, O No-Life King."

"Of course…" a rich voice mused. A red-clad figure emerged from the shadowy pines with shades, wide fedora and Cheshire grin firmly in position, and a black umbrella in hand. Hidden in his mass of long inky-black hair, his ruby-stone, wild and bloodthirsty eyes stared down at his Master. Studying her wet image a malicious smile, half-grinning in cruel pleasure crossed his lips. He further scrutinized the maiden—taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the droplets on her flushed skin, lidded eyes, the wet strands cupping her face and the steady pulse beating in her slender neck.

In the moonlight she appeared timeless, almost angelic. Eyes filled with lust, his intense glaze ranked over her again before wordlessly taking a formal bow. "My Master…" he cooed. "I must say that you look simply intoxicating. Beautiful…rain suits you."

Integra raised a suspicious brow and hissed, "Abandon your formalities, Alucard." She threw him a don't-you-say-a-word. No words were needed since her eyes spoke plainly. "You are late. Remus Grayback said that this is the last night before the Blood-Bar moves again. Iscariot or not, the time to act is now. Time is against us, vampire."

"Yes. Of course." Ever so gentlemanlike Alucard raised the umbrella above the maiden. No words were needed and Integra quickly went underneath its slight warmth and dryness. "Then allow us to depart."

Integra returned to her stoic and business-like self, "Overall I hope things are preceding nicely."

Alucard's attention was elsewhere but nevertheless he answered, "Well enough. Police-Girl is nervous but prepare. Walter is a charm and Pip…well, is Pip."

"Good. I wish not be disturbed tonight. I have waited far too long for this—for Millennium." Lifting a brow she asked, "And Iscariot? Pray tell me, how are they tonight?"

"Asleep with one eye open," he replied indifferently.

"And you?"

Now Alucard exclaimed far to cherry, "Of course, sweet Master. You know me all too well, I am always eager for bloodshed and chaos."

"Indeed," Integra replied softer, "As always…"

They continued to walk deeper into the pinewoods and away from the dry warm comforts of Hellsing Manor. Alucard replied harshly, "Maxwell seems to keep a steady eye on you, _Miss Integra_."

Integra stopped drying her hair and peered over her shoulder. "I fail to comprehend you."

"It is quite simple, Master…"

There was a severe edge to his tone. Soon everything started to piece together—the yellow flowers of friendship, his eyes watching her, the constant prayers, smooth comments and his sudden concern for her health. Did the Judas-Director fancy her? _Impossible! _However, was it true? Then again, it sounded more like one of Alucard's sick and twisted games. It would not be the first time he toyed with her mind and no doubt, it would not be the last.

Integra could not help but to snort and said, "Oh please…I think you falter the Judas-Director, Alucard. He is a priest after all."

Alucard chastised, "I cannot believe how ignorant you can be, Integra. The evidence is clear enough. His thoughts make me blush. Even a holy-man has his sins. No one is immune to the seven sins."

"Even you," she challenged.

He was silent now.

Integra smirked darkly. She opened her robe and allowed it to fall to the mud. Remus Grayback advised the Hellsing members to dress the part; otherwise their identity would ring clear. Integra never had such skill with femininity. While other girls cooed over movie stars, shoes, makeup, fashioned-designed clothes and more boys —Integra fancied over other less discreet objects, such as guns, books and hunting ghouls, vampires and the casual demon and werewolf. Seras Victoria had helped the confused woman with the most suggestive outfit imaginable—fishnet stockings, a corset that busted her beasts to her collarbone and exaggerated her slim waist and curved hips, four-inch heels, girdle-belt underneath a ragged dress with a slit on either side, which reached her hipbones and a thon. A thon. It was basically a 24/7 weggy but Integra managed. Everything was blood-red.

Alucard changed as well; after all, his fedora, sunglasses and red trench coat was a far too familiar card to the vampire community. He lengthened his midnight mane so it was sleeked back into a ponytail and a crisp suit swathed his body with a white tie, which would be no doubt spattered in blood before the morning. There was also a heavy five-o'clock shadow on his face.

His eyes traveled over her but she warned, "Not a word."

No outward questions or suggestive comments; however, like always the moment was short and blunt. Cocking his head to the side, the No-Life King continued to watch her. She might have passed him a casual glance but her focus remained elsewhere. Alucard half-murmured to himself and his rich voice carried about in the room like the lingering of a ghost. "You and I are such a match," the Nosferatu replied sweetly.

Integra froze at his frankness. Composing herself she said evenly, "We-are-nothing-alike."

Alucard looked up.

"No. You have greatly mistaken me, Master," he corrected with a slight Cheshire grin on his thin lips. After that Integra mentally kicked herself for falling and further playing along in one of his philological tête-à-têtes and games. His sly smile only stretch ear-to-ear as Alucard explained, "I do not say that we are _same_, but I do think that we are _pair_. Opposite sides on the same coin…separate petals on the same flower…different fingers on the same hand."

Red and black.

Yin and Yang…Light and Darkness…Angel and Demon. Of course, how ardently he had played Lucifer to her Eve, tempting her with forbidden and tantalizing fruits. Just a bite and then surely she would not deny him or herself—but she was the Virgin-Knight wed only to her silent Protestant God, Queen and to England. _Such a waste. _But she was his! A _female_ descendant of Abraham Van Hellsing—it was payment. It was vengeance.

Rolling her eyes Integra demanded harshly, "Express yourself plainly Count. I am in mood to play with your meddlesome riddles and childish games. They vex me."

"I am playing Lucifer to your Eve," the No-Life King replied thickly.

"Ah yes…" she mused distastefully, "You fancy me so much that you have me be your _whore_. I am currently dressed the part, wouldn't you say?" Integra stepped forward and seized his tie, pulling his eyes to her level. She moved her hips like a wave and her voice was thick and seductive, "Where is it love? **O**"

The last phase caught him off caught. His inky-black eyebrows shot towards the heavens and his eyes widened. A rumbled chuckled escaped his throat and roared like a furnace. "How witty, Integra," he cried clapping his hands together like a giddy schoolboy. "Whore?" he quirked. "No. Not ever. Perhaps a Countess, or even a No-Life Queen—but never a meddlesome and common trollop. _You!_ I am surprised that you would downgrade yourself so normally low. A whore requires ownership, which of course I have none."

Together their eyes fell on the Hellsing Seal on his gloves.

A slight smile of triumph touched her lips.

"Such a pity, don't you think?" he said softly. "I would make you sing, fallen angel. Rapture in ecstasy. Mortality is bitter…"

Alarm bells went off inside her mind. It was a far-to-familiar carding card and she wanted nothing to do with it. _Another blood-offering._ Integra furrowed her brow and crossed her arms—but instead of appearing closed-off, the expression reminded him of a younger version of herself, a child. A little girl. "I am not in the mood. No more games."

"I am _always_ in the mood," he urged.

"And Immortality is a tiring existence, _Alucard_. Never! Not in a thousand years," Integra repeated firmly. She departed from him and away from the dry comforts of his umbrella; however her eyes refused to separate from the ruby orbs in his eye sockets. Raising a hand she said, "Stop. Just stop."

Alucard straightened as if he had been insulted. "_Stop_?"

"I said 'stop it.'"

"Only the submissive says the magic word, Integra. Stop." His expression hardened as he closed the umbrella and tossed it to the aside. The No-Life King ranked his fingers into his hair and flipping several stubborn strands out of his face. Leering, the No-Life King advanced upon his Master. Within two long steps he closed the short distance between them. He joked, "Well…if you are playing the role of the submissive, than pray tell me, who is the dominant? You cannot play the game alone, sweet virgin. It is such a fun game. I could be your other half, the dominant. I wonder…"

Integra crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. This game was tiring. "You are so childish."

He replied in a singsong voice, "I wonder if the Virgin will bleed as much scream, cry and plead." Like always she remained stoic and unfeeling as steel and dry ice. It wasn't the reaction he was hoping. "_Stop_…" he tasted the word. "That is such a funny word coming from you. Sounds like a plead, even a prayer. I think you are begging…because, frankly I don't think that you would ever tell me to stop."

A cruel laugh escaped her, "You falter yourself, _Vladimir_."

The No-Life King raised an eyebrow at her—never had she referred him by his given name. Never. He took a measured step closer. "I believe that you never answered my question. Then again, perhaps silence is more telling than words." Alucard's voice was low, "I ask it again, _Integra_. Have you ever thought asking me to drink your blood—or to mix your blood with mine? Would you ever tell me to stop?"

Perhaps a smirked crossed her lips before answering, "Why don't you just read my thoughts?"

"I have."

Integra changed the subject. "I trust that you can recognize Marius Von Montague and loosen his tongue."

"I have my methods of persuasion. You are avoiding my question."

"I am avoiding this stupidity." Integra scoffed and replied indifferently, "You make me laugh, Vampire-King. You take such pride in your whim to deflower virgins and offer the taste of forbidden fruit, Alucard. Foolish Count. I will not be another notch on your coffin."

The No-Life King noted with unbelievable sweetness, "On the contrary, I found a perfect spot for you."

Her tone was drenched with sarcasm, "_If_ by chance, I take a mate…it will never be you. I am the Mistress and I shall have no Master. I am the dominant in this relationship and I shall _always_ be on top."

Alucard flashed her a smile and noted sweetly, "Not complaining…Integra. Besides the view would be lovely."

A flush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as a shudder of lust and disgust wafted over her.

"Countess…" he purred. "Like you, I would never say stop, _Master_. We could always switch the roles."

However Integra hissed, "You pathetic No-Life King…"

There was a dangerous gleam and an unsatisfied hunger in his blood-ruby eyes. The vampire bared his fangs at her; however, Integra remained indifferent and unyielding as always. The Hellsing Seal protected so Integra stood her ground, showing how high a chin could really be held and her dry-ice eyes glared at him.

"Petty human." Alucard growled, "One day Integra, you will seriously regret the things you say to me." **O**

"You cannot touch me," she said with a dark smile and then turned away.

His voice carried on and echoed like some dark prophecy, "Your rehearsed charade is futile, Integra…" and then he added, "_your malady only deepens_—"

Integra's movements came to a crude and sudden halt. True enough, he could not see her face but he had an idea of what it looked like—her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise, wrinkled brows and unblinking eyes. He smiled in victory and cooed sadistically, "O my! What is this? Why the face, Master? You look so terribly distraught. Perhaps fearful."

"You--" she sputtered. "I am perfectly fine."

He playfully winced as if he had been fatally pained. Lying or avoiding the truth was a fruitless practice, especially in the presence of a No-Life King. The slightest tremor in breathing, the sudden race in the normal heart rhythm and the flushed of color in the cheeks betrayed such intentions. Sometimes, even her pupils would dilate a fraction. "Lying is sin, my lovely Protestant-Maiden."

"So is pride," she warned.

"Likewise." A pause.

Integra paled but Alucard spoke fatherly, "Poor unfortunate Integra. Don't look so surprise. You are not deceiving, just misdirected and…well _human_. How pathetic really. You humans are so petty and foolish. I had my suspicious long before Dr. Trevillen made his diagnosis. Did you not think that I would not notice? Your scent is different, I must say. I did wonder when the Hellsing Seal would betray the Blood-Bondage….Mmmm. Tick tock, tick tock…"

Tick…

Tock…

TBC.

Yes! I am finally back up to speed. This chapter was difficult to write and it went through so many drafts. All of them sucked. None of them ran smooth. I do hope that this one is much better. Of course, reviews are encouraged and welcome. Even the bad ones. Next is the Blood-Bar, met Marius Von Montague and trust me, Millennium is coming as well. Don't forget about Iscariot. Things are heating up.

Author's Notes

**O** Shiva---I was torn between Shiva and Vishnu, but I think the first is better.

**O **King Henry XIII—he was the English King who created the Protestant Church and separated from Rome.

**O** "One day Integra, you will seriously regret the things you say to me."—Remember _Somniator._ What was the last thing she said?

**O** Enrico _Orlando_ Maxwell—I seriously doubt if that is his middle name.

O Seven sins—lust, pride, sloth, gluttony, wrath, envy and greed 

**O **"Where is it, Love?"—was a common calling card for whores in London around 1888, during the reign of Jack the Ripper.

See you in a few days.


	16. Dresses and Guns

**Hellsing—**Bloodlust

**Disclaimer—**I have no legal rights or ownership towards Hellsing. I have nothing and I merely borrow them.

**Synopsis—**The pieces are set and the board is moving.

**Rating—**T

**Chapter Title—**Dresses and Guns

**Author's Note—**Sorry about the delay. This continues off _Dominance and Submission_, and then I promise that _Blood-Bar_ will follow. I don't want to mess this up. So please have patience with me. Here are the following chapters and then it is done. I am hoping to finish this story before September 19—when school starts for me but as for now, I highly and seriously doubt that.

Blood-Bar Flight Night (Part 1 & 2—subject to change.) Parting of the Ways The Wake Strange Company 

Immortalis

Dresses and Guns 

--Outskirts of Hellsing Manor

--10:15pm

Tick…

Tock…

Integra could almost hear the clock inside her mind, foreshadowing towards her most certain doom and damnation. Seeing her iron-shield falter the demon advanced even closer and taunted, "Tick tock…tick tock, my falling broken angel." Perhaps Integra was too traumatized by his knowledge that she did not respond to his hand clasping her throat, thumb swept underneath her chin and fingers snaking around her neck. Her flesh felt warm and hummed against his icy breath and touch. Gloating with victory he raised a bemused brow at her expressionless and stoic face. His flaming hellfire eyes bore into her dry-ice glare, as Alucard smiled. The No-Life King whispered as his mouth brushed against her earlobe, "_Tempus fugit_, wouldn't you say?"

_So…he did know_. **O **

"Oh!" he exclaimed brightly, "Giving me the silent treatment, eh? How childish. Still that little girl down in the dungeons. Such a pity, really." Eyes gleaming in the darkness Alucard pulled away, leaving his sharp nail from his index finger to trail along her trachea and underneath her chin. If things were different, namely the Seals were non-existed, he could easily slice her throat like a knife slicing through warm butter and he could practically shower in her fountain of blood. Alas, it was nothing more than a bloodied fantasy. He noted plainly, "No words are needed. Perhaps silence is more telling than words."

Integra bit her upper lip and she was trembling with rage and perhaps fear. "How long have you known?"

"Oh! Are we actually going to attempt to chatter with me, Master?"

She asked again this time harsher, "_Again_, I ask how long have you known? Or like always, are you sputtering nonsense and meaningless riddles. That vexes me. And I shall not tolerate it. Answer the question, _vampire_," she spat the title as if it was a horrid word.

"Enhance your calm, Integra Hellsing." Reading her thoughts Alucard smirked down and leered, "What a pity. Such a pity. No indeed, I am not _sputtering_ gibberish. I may be your family's pet, a slave for will and whim—" he added menacingly, "BUT—Did you honestly think _I_ wouldn't know? Would not notice? After all, 'Blood is the life.' It is the currency of the soul and the essence that binds you to me, and I to you. If so, than I am most displeased in you, Integra. You dare play your wits against mine. Me…the No-Life King! It was a valiant effort, I must add. Simply _human_…"

A dry chuckle escaped her as she rolled her eyes towards the thundering heavens above her. She asked, "How long?"

"How long have I known? Shall I tell you the modest secret?" He leaned closer and whispered, " I knew! I knew long before you, Dr. Trevalin or even Walter. Your precious granddaddy…Abraham Van Hellsing, was a worthy adversary but a foolish man nonetheless…he praised himself for his genius—Picture it '_enslaving an Immortal'_…" he paused, "However never did he dare contemplate the price for such a deed."

Her eyes fell to the muddy-ground. "Everyone pays a price for their sins Alucard, even you."

"And so shall you…" he mused sweetly and then Alucard simpered, "I think salvation is a bit too late, sweet Love."

The slap came faster than Alucard anticipated and the blow actually tipped him off balance and the sound echoed off the trees and into the night sky. Her handprint was clearly visible on his cheek. A half-sadistic purr escaped his rumbling throat as he caressed the slapprint. The undead skin felt warm and sore; however Alucard merely acted like it was a gentle lovingly touch, and then he winked playfully at her. "Forever the feisty sprite, _Teggy._ **O **Ten years passed and nothing has change, well, of course you have matured—at least in the physical sense."

Integra literally blushed and hissed under her breath, "Fiend! You shall remember your place, Alucard. You are _nothing_. Nothing but my slave, a humble pet. As our French Captain says, '_you are my bitch_.' Mine until my last dying breath. And I do not intend to 'check out' anytime soon." Gashing her teeth, her features darken fiercely as she boiled with rage. Punishment was virtually a useless practice, since Alucard was a lover of pain. It was his pleasure. She reached for her Glock .45 and aimed the laser between his eyes. She actually considered placing a silver-bullet between his legs. Twice in one week. "And by far you are enjoying this too much."

He raised a challenging brow and gave her an I-dare-you look. "Are you mad? You shall wake the house, especially Iscariot."

"Cry stop to your tongue, Count."

Stepping closer he smirked doubtfully at her and laughed mechanically, applauding her. "Always the saint, Integra?" the vampire challenged with a gleam dancing in his eyes.

At this distance Alucard noted everything—he could count her eyelashes, the rise and fall of her chest, the smell of cigars on her lips and the scent of lavender in her hair. Frankly he always found her more tempting when she was fuming with anger, especially when it was targeted at him. Rage and hated was always the perfect fuel to feed a flame. It would not be long before such a mounting inferno consumed anything edible. Integra was such a spark, continuing to flourish and thrive. He always fancied those creatures with such spunk. Integra was perfect mixture—strong, beautiful and honorable. For over ten years she had resisted his charms and his blood-offerings, remaining untainted from all otherworldly pleasures. Her continuing virginity only made her more irresistible. The moment to claim her would come, either willingly given or forced—but for now, the No-Life King was patiently waiting.

He cooed, "Despite the circumstance you do look exquisite. Love it. Beautiful…"

Crossing her arms she snapped, "Refrain from buttering me up. I am seriously displeased."

Alucard joked sweetly, "I could literally _eat_ you."

"And I could literally just shot you," she challenged raising the gun to his face again.

"Hoo yoo!" Alucard cooed as he shivered with pleasure. "I simply love it when you get violent. Like I said, we could always have a game. Perhaps switch the roles?"

Integra took a measure step forward and opened her mouth to throw some horrible curse at him; but the gathering voices coming down the path silenced her. Two separated and distinct individuals—Seras Victoria and Captain Pip.

OOO

OOO

Beats of silenced followed as the two star-crossed lovers emerged from the bend. There were walking at a face pace and were clearly having a serious discussion, or more likely, an argument. Despite their harsh treatment towards each other Pip and Police-Girl argued like typical husband and wife. The voice grew louder and more distinctive and finally they were within eyesight. While Integra's garbs were shades of red, Police-Girl was dressed in deep rich purple. It was a suggestive outfit, like something a porno-video would have. The Police-Girl looked like a naughty Catholic schoolgirl, wearing the outfit that was quite plainly several sizes too small but which he managed to force herself into anyway, white knee socks and translucent blouse that revealed her black-laced bra.

Seras cried, "Why are you complaining about something _so stupid_?"

He scoffed and flatly protested. "It is _not_ stupid? All olives are not created equal."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "_Oh please_! Captain! You are so sad. Not to mention twisted and sick." Police-Girl continued to rant even as her voice strained, "Ridiculous! This is like the whole argument about how to 'properly cut' a peanut-butter sandwich. How silly! It doesn't matter. You just eat it. I seriously doubt that your stomach knows the difference between triangle and straight slices!"

Pip crossed his arms and disputed further, "Non! It is the principal of the thing."

Seras waved him away. "You fat turd, an olive is an olive. They all taste the same."

"That only proves that English have no taste," he leered. "And no class."

The young fledged visibly flushed in anger. She struggled with a comeback, "Well—well you know—you know what?" She paused and Pip raised a skeptical brow so she sputtered, "French people have no manners!"

The Captain laughed, "Oh _please_. That was so lame."

"It was the best I could think of," she confessed.

Upon witnessing her less-than-modest costume, a slightly shocked and embarrassed Integra hid her eyes while Alucard simply beamed, smiling like a total idiot. He looked like a total pervert, a horny dog. "Master…" Seras gave a modest bow, clutching the hem between her thumbs and fingers.

He exclaimed "Fantastic. Simply breathtaking."

The Frenchman also admired the costume, probably more than her sire. "Fucking A. That's what I say."

But Seras' eyes settled on Integra and noted how pale she was and the empty glaze in her eyes. Was it vulnerability or envy? "Is something the matter?"

Alucard clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Lovely, my childe. Walter is a wonderful seamstress—but, don't fret. Integra and I were just having an interesting discussion." He paused, catching her burning glare. "We must finish it, wouldn't you say Ignatius." **O**

Pip nearly swallowed his cigarette when he witnessed her expression. God, if looks could only kill… He noted softly, "Looks more like a argument."

"No," he answered sharply. "It is only a argument if there's blood and screaming—but Miss Seras Victoria," he paused to take her hands and praise, "you look lovely. This is a practice I wish to see revisited. Mea culpa… **O**"

Looking at her Master and his dark suit and white silk tie she noted, "Master…you clean up so nicely. You look good. Very handsome. Very trim and proper." She giggled like a stupid girl with a crush. "You look nice."

Pip smirked darkly and looked at her as if she had an extra head on her shoulders. Perhaps it was a spark of jealousy coming from the Frenchman. He added, "Al, nice pimp outfit. **O**"

"I trust that everything is running smoothly, Captain?" inquired Integra returning back into her business-like self. Despite her suggestive attire she lost none of her iron potency. Still, according to the Wild Geese she was always Miss Scary Face and especially, Miss-Don't-Fuck-With-Me. Integra signed their checks, so Pip practically worship her. Lesson #2 in mercenary—never bit the hand that feeds you. And of course, next to Lesson #1, which ironically was—don't be stupid and die, it was most important trick of the trade. She raised a challenging brow and asked further, "I said before that you are _not _accompanying us."

"Nay," he raised in hands and fervidly shook his head. He gestured towards Police-Girl and explained, "Just escorting DD here—Nevertheless," Pip took a long inhale of smoke and answered proudly, "everything is fine. Crystal perfect, Boss. I know! I know the plan. Iscariot is fast asleep. Sleeping like drunken babes. Don't forget, I am a professional and I live for this shit."

She smiled apparently pleased. "Good. Very good. Of course, Captain Bernadette I would not have hired you for anything less."

"Yep!" he cleared his throat and added, "Just make sure that you get back before their next shift at 3 am. Otherwise your absence will be noted."

Sleeking a loose and stubborn strand back Alucard questioned, "Who is on the next watch?"

Pip furrowed his brow apparently thinking. "I don't really know the name. They all look the same. Fucking cockroaches. I know that—that old fart…shit! —what is his name? Father Robert or—"

"Father Renaldo?"

He exclaimed, "That's the fuck! He is dead cold, thanks to that special brew of Walter's. When he wakes up he going to have a headache from the pits of hell, not to mention the party trip to the bathroom he going to take—but I think it's Bayonet-Dude at 3am."

Bayonet-Dude, meaning Father Anderson.

Integra said, "Excellent. Than I will expect no failure."

"Hey! When I fail that is the day I retire or die."

OOO

OOO

As the company departed, the tension between Master and Monster escalated to a new level. Alucard flatly refused to look at her and apparently made great attempts to avoid her presence. After blowing a kiss at Seras, Pip left down the slate-stone path and disappeared beyond the line of thick pines, humming the Eskimo song under his breath and sucking his cancer-stick dry. Police-Girl was fuming red with embarrassment and perhaps rage. Pip was harmless but annoying as hell. He was more successful at making her furious rather than wooing her. Instead her romantic feelings were reserve for another, not him. Her emotions towards _him_ were oblivious but his attentions were elsewhere and were not returned. A comforting hand rested on her shoulder. It was her sire, Master Alucard.

Glazing down at her, he smiled. She blushed as red as his flaming eyes. He whispered low, "Go ahead, Police-Girl. I would like to have a private word with Master Hellsing. Meet us at the north gate."

Hearing this Integra scoffed to herself. She defiantly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, fingertips brushing against her Glock, not because she contemplated that she would need it, but instead, because its presence comforted her. And blowing Alucard into unidentified segments always put a smile on her face. However, Integra sensed that he wanted to say something. "Integra…"

_His_ intentions were crystal clear, and yet, Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing never faltered towards him. She wondered would she be able to resist the lures of the No-Life King. Suddenly, Seras realized that she did not. She accepted his offer—'_What do you want to do_?' Murder and chaos were his lovers. So what was Integra?

Mind infested with curiosities and unanswered questions; Seras leaned against the tree and watched through the low branches. Seras watched, witnessing Alucard facing Integra and his lips moving urgently and desperately.

"Don't you address me so personally, slave," Integra snapped.

Alucard urged, "Again, I press against your physical presence tonight."

Integra blinked, "So concern about my safety?"

His voice grew stern, "It is most unwise. Police-Girl and I can handle Marius Von Montague. He is natural coward, a babe in the woods. The Blood-Bar is an intimate place, an altar of blood so your presence shall complicate the circumstance. We must remove all negative elements."

"Impudent undead." She scoffed, "When I ask for your advice I shall ask it."

"Is this your idea of rebellion, even bravery?" the No-Life King demanded. "If so, than you are utterly pathetic, Integra. If you are so apt about Death, than I shall introduce you," Alucard leered harshly.

She smirked. "Not by you."

TBC

Immortalis

Next is the Blood-Bar and especially Marius Von Montague. Evil bastard, I must add. Iscariot wakes and Millennium follows. Bid badass battle. Lovely. I think this is the shortest chapter but I had to get something out so I can brainstorm and finally finish this thing. The next chapter might take awhile; nevertheless, it shall come. Remember, patience is a virtue.

_Author's Notes._

O _Ignatius_—Latin for "Fiery One." I figured that it might be a nickname for Integra from Alucard. She can sure be a firecracker.

O _So he did know—_I assure you that you shall know the secret. There is more than meets the eye with her so-called malady and it relates to the Hellsing-Seals

O _Teggy_—Next to Artemis and Ignatius, one of Integra's nicknames.

O _"Pimp outfit"—_Someone once said that Alucard always looks like a pimp.

O _Mea culpa_—Latin for 'my fault.' I figured since Alucard died as a Catholic and furthermore likes causing trouble that he might say this.


	17. BloodBar

**Hellsing—**Bloodlust

**Disclaimer—**I have no legal rights or ownership towards Hellsing, I merely borrow them and then return them later. I have nothing, so if the lawyers sue me…I think that you shall be gravely disappointed.

**Synopsis—**The next order from Millennium is finally revealed.

**Rating—**T

**Chapter Title—**Blood-Bar

**Author's Note—**Sorry about the delay. Here it is, the Blood-Bar. This chapter has gone under serious construction. There have been a lot of changes. First part is Iscariot; due to an anonymous review I realized that I need a bit more Iscariot, especially Anderson. _And_ Maxwell. So the question is…'Got Maxwell?' There's a bit of everyone in here. Don't worry, Anderson will be in the next and play an important role in the two following chapters, Flight Night 1 and 2. Of course, the Major is here.

Immortalis

OOO

OOO

Adam 

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Guest room on the second floor_

_--10:56pm ****_

Fingering his rosary Archbishop Enrico Maxwell sat reclined on the mattress, one hand locked behind his head and his eyes staring up at the looming ceiling. His long blond hair was untied and sprawled out in a beautiful display, like ripples of waves on an ocean. The man remained in that position, long after darkness conquered the horizon and the rain stopped battling against the window-glass.

In addition his purple-gray vest was hanging ignored on the bedpost, and the buttons from his white, starch-crisp shirt were undone, revealing his lean and attractive physique. Despite living a relatively shelter life at the orphanage in Ferdinand Lukes, Maxwell had developed a limber and muscular body. As a child he was a pathetic outcast and a popular target for the bullies. A Judas-Priest named Philario Slade, who before his tragic death taught him several defensive moves and after landing five children in the hospital, young Maxwell was never bothered again. No, he was respected and furthermore _feared_.

A sly smiled crossed his lips at the sudden memory.

Fear was such a powerful and useful instrument.

Of course a dozen years serving the Inquisition Squad and as a Judas-Priest only primed his physical status. Maxwell was never celebrated for being a big man like Paladin Anderson or even the old withered and hunchback Pope. Yes, he was tall. The Judas-Director was lean, but nevertheless there was uncommon wiry strength in his limbs. He did not look like it but he was strong as an ant.

First he was a lonely orphan, then a priest and Director of Iscariot. He was cursed and called the Devil's Child and now _Archbishop_. Life was ironic and God functioned in mysterious methods: nonetheless, he was not complaining.

Maxwell needed no one.

Lately his conquest to power had been cursing smoothly save but one constant element—Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.

His eyebrows twitched irritably.

Regardless of the bitter and questionable relationship between the houses of Iscariot and Hellsing, Maxwell and his agents had been given excellent commendations. The large bed and goose-feathered pillows were to his appeal. Hospitality was simply polite. The food was delicious and not poisoned; however, his Russian tea with lemon, which was specifically brought by Walter, was left untouched and cold on the dresser. Now he lacked appetite, even though he should be consuming the rewards of triumph over the Iron-Maiden.

So why, did he requested this assignment.

Maxwell couldn't answer, but he suspected why he might have. The idea was ridiculous, of course. He couldn't deny that she was an attractive woman; however, her mannerisms and tastes left something to be desired. Strong and unyielding as steel Integra Hellsing refused to submit to man's authority, especially his. After seeing her submerge in the rain, wearing little more than a silk robe Maxwell felt himself physically response to her presence. The sight of her reminded him of the marble statue of the Virgin Mary at the main altar at the Vatican. Being a priest he prayed often—but now would he be worshiping the Mother of God or the image of Integra?

The Judas-Director thought back at her words, 'if you worship me, am I not God?"

Yes, he was a priest, a humble servant of God Almighty and yet, the Archbishop was _human _and furthermore, a _man_. Would man always be weakened by the presence of a woman? Was it their doomed destiny? After all, it was Adam who tasted the forbidden fruit from the tempted Eve and cast them out of paradise. Regardless, it was Eve who committed the first sin, the original sin. Not Adam. None of this was his fault and why should it be? He was an Archbishop, a holy man and she was a filthy heretic Protestant, who had a habit of keeping vampires as family pets. The analogy was simple—Maxwell was Adam and Integra was Eve, or better yet, Lilith**O **and Alucard was Satan.

Unlike Adam, Maxwell would resist temptation.

He could, _right_?

OOO 

OOO

The Blood-Bar 

_--England, London_

_--Corner at Mulberry Avenue and Bloomingrove Square_

_--The Blood Bar_

Besides the typical materialistic and so-called 'normal' world that people submerged themselves into, there is _another_ realm, the _real_ world. Unknowing to the passing humans, who were completely oblivious to the invisible barrier, a world of the unexplained, a playground for the entities of the Underground existed. It glazed on with fierce hungry eyes. Despite of the laws of evolution, humans are not nature's finest achievement. Instead they are merely a step in the food chain, nothing more than prey and a spot of entertainment.

No doubt God himself wept.

And now, two vampires—a fledging and a No-Life King from the pages of Bram Stroker ambled down the sidewalk next to Mulberry Avenue. Among the surrounding humans such as hot-punked teenagers, mothers and children, businessmen talking into cell-phones, pacing hookers and slow moving elderly, they moved unsuspected. Who would ever think that an ageless blood-sucking demon was beside you? Smiling friendly at you? No doubt, if the passing preppy boppers, who were flashing eyelashes and whispering excitingly had known that the attractive man dressed to perfection was a vampire—they would not have laughed. Especially if Alucard was unbound, he would have seduced them and drained them to death. (Of course if free, Integra would be first.)

Perhaps not knowing would be better…but then again, is the unknown comforting or disturbing?

Maybe just maybe, Seras felt the slightest sting of jealousy towards the girls but relaxed, discovering that Alucard had taken _her_, and bestowed the Silver-Kiss on her veins, not them. And he would never.

Between the two of them Alucard was dressed much more appropriately and Seras had received countless stares and glares at her porn-star outfit. She looked like a total slut. At first she simply dismissed them, but it was not long before it was annoying. A group of teenagers approached whistling and howling like wolves. One with a backwards baseball cap noted with a degree of wet lust, "Mmm…like to bend you over."

They laughed haughtily.

"Forward and backward," the redhead remarked.

"Hey hot thing," the boy purred.

Anger bubbling at the surface Seras bore her fangs and her eyes flashed red. Paling like ghosts, the click of horny teenagers gasped and like dogs ran away with their tails between their legs. It was comical and deeply satisfying. She stood proudly with her hands in her hips and chin raised high. Taking a moment the fledging inhaled deeply, a strange thing considering that she no longer had the need to breathe. Refueled and relaxed she ambled further down the street.

Five paces down, Seras stopped with a startled gasp. Standing at the corner of Mulberry Avenue and Bloomingrove Square she felt the most curious sensation, a slight tug behind her belly button. Besides that the young fledging swore that she heard whispering, an aura of hushed voices and murmuring. Any yet, she saw nothing—no ghosts, or floating balls of lights. At first the Police-Girl was surprised and even curious about it, but her interest quickly mounted to fear and uncertainty.

She nearly screamed when a hand fell on her panting shoulder and a fatherly voice murmured softly, "Be calm, Police-Girl. There is nothing to fear."

"What—whatever is it?" she stuttered.

Alucard half-closed his eyes and his nostrils flared, catching the scent of the surrounding air. He replied mystically, "The Blood-Bar. It breathes…"

Breathes? She had never heard such a thing. Never. Then again, since becoming a vampire Seras had learned many things. Cautiously she stepped forward and with keen ears, listened to the voices and the sound of a building breathing. It was such a curious sound. Following the sound she peered down an empty alley filled with overfilling garbage cans, piles of old copies of the Daily Courier and empty beer bottles. The young vampire frowned. So this was the Blood-Bar? In truth she suspected more. "This? But Master sir, it's just an alley. An empty alley."

Alucard made tisk-tsk voice and shook his head. "Still a childe, Police-Girl. There is much to learn about Underground **O**." With a drastic wave of his hand he motioned towards the tasteless alley and explained, "This is a farce, a mask really. An illusion."

She cursed herself and her stupidity. Guilty Seras asked meekly, "I am not using my third eye, am I?"

"I cannot see it either," he confessed.

Seras blinked.

"It is a shade of the Dreamworld, like a mirror…" Smiling like an idiot Alucard strolled smoothly and with the lethal graces of a cat down the alley, with Seras trailing behind him. "What do you see when you look at a mirror, Police-Girl?"

Another riddle? No wonder Integra hated them so. Rolling her eyes she answered indifferently, "A reflection myself."

"And if you _are_ the mirror?" A pause. "You see two worlds, both sides. Something like water." Suddenly he stopped and said, "The same principle is applied here." Wordlessly Alucard extended his hand out and his fingertips brushed the surface of an invisible wall. It hummed and rippled like water as the No-Life King interrupted its current. Studying the door the No-Life King raised a suspicious brow at the instrument, folding his arms and resting his chin on his palm. His glaze turned back not to his childe but to the exquisite creature standing behind her, his childe. "Last chance, Seras Victoria."

She snapped, "I made the choice back in Cheddar, didn't I?"

Before passing through the invisible barrier Seras paused and glanced behind her. Nobody noticed them or the wall. Moving through their lives the humans walked by ignorantly and oblivious. It was ironic, even pathetic and sad that she used to be one of _them_. Yes, Seras had accepted that she was a vampire, a child of the night and darkness. Passing through the mirror was like running underwater. It was laborious and frustrating and when she passed completely through, she fell to the ground. Struggling to her feet Seras glanced up and her mouth dropped, almost scraping the ground.

Now it was not an empty alley. It had changed. Instead of old newspapers and bottles the alley had been transformed into a long smooth tunnel with a door at the end and a sigh spelling in chiller-type "Blood-Bar." A heavily muscled bouncer stood, arms crossed in front of the iron-bolted door and his red eyes dancing out into the distance and at the gathering crowd. A pair of horns poked through his black hair—a demon. Apparently the Blood-Bar was a hot popular spot and the guests had dressed to perfection. Most vampires and the causal werewolf wore leather and dark, translucent silk. Others wore much more elaborate attire, such as jewel-speckled gowns, gold-trimmed cuffs, and rich, flawless Italian suits. There wasn't any specific dress code; instead, it was decided upon the taste of the individual—to causal and fancy, it did not matter.

Seras knew her duty—she was the bait. As Alucard so bluntly put it, 'with her curves and charms Marius won't resist,' and he had tutored and educated her in the methods of seduction to prime and perfection. It wasn't anything truly scandalous. A flash of leg, a flirtatious smile or a suggestive comment was very disarming and alluring. Now, she truly felt like a total whore, even if she was as inexperienced as an old withered nun. True she liked the extra attention from her Master but she knew that his feelings weren't mutual. His thoughts were elsewhere…

Leaning close she whispered, "So…looks like Remus Greyback was right. It's here. Right at the Corner of Mulberry Avenue and Bloomingrove Square."

"Don't be easily fooled, Police-Girl," he warned.

She pouted her lips and said sweetly, "What? You don't like him? He seems nice to me. Very helpful. Walter said that—"

"Lesson 12—_Never_ trust a werewolf." Ah yes! Alucard was infamous for his random lessons, such as—'drink regularly, avoid the sunlight, silver is toxic…' _blah, blah and blah_. It wasn't any different from _Vampir_, a book currently on loaned from the private collection of Integra Wingates Hellsing. Seras Victoria had never pride herself on being an active or good reader. No, she had failed the AR **O** program more than once; but the book was intriguing. And slightly disturbing. "They are animals. Dirty and savage."

"You two never got along," she noted plainly.

Finally Alucard smiled and it was the grin that would frighten most. "We have tried to kill each other more than once or twice—but, _dear_ Walter always managed to play in the middle. Vampires and werewolves have _always_ been on uneasy ground, Police-Girl. It is instinct. We are both species and children of the night and neither of us liked to share. Territorial, if you must."

The actually admission of the Blood-Bar was easier than finding it. Alucard and his fledging merely had to display their fangs and pass through a heat-seeking machine, and since vampires were dead and cold they would naturally appear blue and white on the screen. Human were strictly forbidden unless they were specifically requested or had a Master. Donors and Blood-Concubines were very different circumstances. One was born into slavery and the other was voluntary. A Blood-Concubine's passage was much more difficult—examination for scars, tasting and a Seal of their Master's name and House on their collars. That was only the beginning…

Upon entering the Blood-Bar Seras was met with curious sights. The Blood-Bar was an intimate place…a palace of pleasures both in mind and body, an altar of blood. It reminded Seras of a sex-club or rather a fetish-club. It was very dark, very Gothic. There was a dance-floor filled with moving silhouettes, singing voices and a band called 'Death-Twin' playing on stage. Their music was a strange mixture between heavy metal and mournful new age tunes; nevertheless, the audience held no objection.

A bar stood in the corner, serving high-class liquor and especially blood. There were what Seras guessed as Blood-Concubines locked in swinging cages, dancing sensually to the rhythm of the music and bleeding freely into the empty serving goblet below them. The scent of blood wafted the room and she felt the bloodlust rise within her. Police-Girl was hardly aware that she moved towards the blood until her Master placed a firm hand on her chest, stopping her. Alucard shook his head.

She flatly protested, "Why not, Master? This is a Blood-Bar. I imagine that the blood is just as good as the medical supply. At least it is warm and flesh."

The No-Life King could not argue against that. "True enough—but "he added," that blood is tainted, used and abused."

One of Seras' first lessons was the history of the vampire and The Covenant. It was strange that vampires had their own nation, government and even their own holy book the "Black-Veil," especially since they were such private and solitary creatures. Alucard was reluctant, since by Covenant law it was strictly forbidden to glaze back into the past. Integra was quick to response by reminding him of his servitude and fallen position in their court.

First, it was a common vampric myth that 'blood was blood' and 'all blood is created equal'—only a hotheaded childe would lay claim to such claims. It was a farce. A true and pure Nosferatu would taste the different between a virgin and a common trollop. They could even distinguish and taste the impurities, such as drugs, alcohol and an overactive sexual history. Alucard expressed distastefully that the times had past since his days at The Covenant court. Yes, humans were slaves and cattle—but were treated fairly well to ensure the quality of taste. The class of Blood-Concubines had taken a drastic fall. In his days, girl-virgins were chosen to perfection, trained until their first moon's blood, and then bought or given to a Master-Nosferatu. Even when they were spoiled with age, the Concubines would retire and trade the following generation. The relationship between a Nosferatu and his Blood-Concubine was a strange connection—one of dominance and submission, not romance and especially not love. True, there had been a few exceptions.

That was the first and last lesson.

"Take my wisdom."

After grabbing a goblet of virgin A-Positive blood they took a seat in the quiet back corner. Seras never thought that ordering blood from a Blood-Bar would be a difficult situation. It was worse than Starbucks. First there was specific blood types _A_, _B_, _AB_ and _O_, next there was _positive_ and _negative_…_virginal_ or _regular_…from there one could have it _boiling_, _hot_, _lukewarm_, _cold_ or like an ice coffee _with chucks of ice_…and _fresh_ or _aged_. It was ridiculous but vampires were creatures with specific and special tastes.

At the bar several vampires inquired about 'borrowing' Seras for some simple favors but she merely smiled through her clenched teeth and thanked them for their offers. Yes, she would be the bait for Marius Von Montague. She would play the part, as in pretend and lie, not actually practice as a slut. Her back bumped into something solid and a rise of panic flooded her veins but as a pair of familiar strong arms laid claim and furthermore protected her, she relaxed and melted into his embraced with dark delight. The No-Life King warned grimly, "This one is mine."

Deliberately Alucard laid his hands heavily on either side of her waist, his thumbs brushed over her hips in circular motions and his cool skin absorbed the remaining warmth from her flesh like a greedy and thirsty sponge. A short gasped escaped her lips and a flush of embarrassment flooded her fledging cheeks. The No-Life King smiled in satisfaction. Playing the part to perfection, Alucard continued to rank his fingers through her short hair, his fingertips brushing lightly and his cool blood-stale breath caressing her skin.

"Jumpy for a donor," the one with mismatched irises noted.

"Not a donor, my fledging," he corrected. Despite the disproval, some vampires preferred the taste and consumption of other vampires, rather than humans. It was a rare practice.

Another vampire lifted his eyes towards Alucard and cleared his throat, apparently waiting to say something important or wise. "My Lord, it would be my pleasure to prepare your escort in the ways of pleasure and pain. I am an excellent tutor and The Covenant would bear testimony to my claims."

Alucard narrowed his eyes in contempt and hissed, "You mean to spoil her…"

"Me? Not ever," he said innocently.

"She does not find her methods wantonly. My childe is well instructed and there is nothing more for her. Trust me, this firecracker has me gasping for breath. Funny, considering I do not have any need for it."

They weren't bothered after that.

Alucard proud as always, dripped a finger into the contents and licked, finding it less than satisfying he spat it out. Nevertheless after grimacing he took a long sip and filled his belly. Draining the last drop dry the No-Life King replied displeasingly, "Of course, it isn't Medical-Blood, but it's natural." The Hellsing organization received their supply from the hospital blood-donating service and the Red Cross. The blood had been extracted, tested and the necessary nutrients and hormones had been replaced, making it the ideal feeding supply for Alucard. However, it wasn't warm and a plastic bag did not weep, beg or scream with it glazed into the face of death. It was his only regret. Besides it tasted artificial. "Been too long…"

Seras shifted in her chair uncomfortably and heaved a sigh. This was by far her strangest assignment and the intension between them was cold as ice. She decided on small talk, "So I see that you managed to talk Integra out of coming with us." Seras wondered how did he do it? Somehow he managed to talk Integra out of her personal visit to the Blood-Bar. She was so determined, so vengeful.

Alucard nodded.

Without thinking Seras asked, "_Why_? I don't understand."

"I have my reasons," the No-Life King replied firmly.

"But still why?" she pleaded even as he cast a look of annoyance. "This is her vengeance. Millennium tried to kill her twice. Don't you like to watch her? No more riddles, Master."

In mini-seconds Alucard rounded on her, seizing her by the throat and with unnecessary forcefulness heaved her closer. Their lips were inches away. His long shadow loomed over her and a pair of ruby gems stared at her. They burned and were a picturesque reflection of hell. Pressure growing on her throat, Seras would have found herself in a difficult circumstance if she needed to breathe. Looking at his fierce expression her eyes widened. No one in the Blood-Bar seemed to notice or furthermore care. His tone was hard as ice and smooth as velvet, "How curious. You want the truth?"

Gasping she breathed, "Yeah."

Smiling like some evil sadistic monster he said, "Be warned, Seras Victoria. I am pleased that you have developed some spunk but your sudden defiance begins to annoy me. Remember your place. Until you drink my blood from your own free will, _I am_ your sire. Your _Master_."

"No," she choked.

Blinking he raised an inky pair of eyebrows. "Really?"

"_Sir Integra is my Master_." Any other time those words would have been her death sentence.

A flash of disappointment crossed his face and his grip loosened. "So that is where your true loyalty lies? With _her_…"

"Yes. It _always_ will. And I won't be your pawn." Seras struggled an inch and hurled, "You fancy her."

His features might have softened but it was only a moment. He hissed, "No. I have other _things_ in mind."

She questioned, "Such as?"

Alucard laughed and exclaimed, "You are terribly curious, Police-Girl. Very well, if your insist…" The No-Life King inched closer, his nose brushing against her flushing cheeks and his mouth moved against her earlobe. He spoke in a low whisper, "I would like to kill her. _Kill her, eat her, fuck her_—though I haven't chosen in what order."

Seras Victoria merely stared at him. There was such hatred in his voice that Seras never deemed possible. She thought his feelings towards Integra were more favorable and romantic. No. It was pure hatred, vengeance even. She protested, "You can't touch her. The Seals…"

Alucard narrowed his eyes on her and said hitting a sensitive spot, "Walter tends to loosen his mouth around you, my sweet. Are you earning such privileges?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously and she answered plainly, "Him and I are merely friends."

The No-Life King released her and leaned back into the velvet cushions, there was a doubtful smirk on his lips as he purred, "_If you only knew_…"

OOO

OOO

**_Sweet and Cold_**

A woman approached the Blood-Bar and sat gracefully at the table, elbows resting on scared table and eyes darting, studying the place. Despite the animalistic flare in her sapphire-stone eyes she was human, not a vampire. A human in a vampire Blood bar was a rare sight but one with her specific physical description was rarer still. There was only _one _Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. Just one. Perhaps the vampires were too distracted by their pleasures to notice the Hellsing Heir roaming among them. If they knew, they would not have laughed. In fact, they might have screamed.

The bartender stroke his boyish chin and asked, "Whatever shall it be, Mistress?"

"Firewhisky. Dry," she asked dryly.

He smiled, nodding his head in approval. "Nice choice." Wordlessly the man departed, selected a shot-glass and knocking it twice on the marble-counter, filled it with a water-like substance. "You must be new. I have never seen you before."

Integra nodded.

As he did so she noticed several scars lining the insides of his wrists, thick and several years old. The man noticed her glaze, blushed heavily and pulled his sleeves over his fingers. He attempted to give her a modest smile, but the expression seemed to pain him. Beneath his collar, his throat was a roadmap of abuse. The evidence was clear—A Blood-Concubine **O**…

Integra felt a stab of pity for pity. He was so young and yet already scared and tarnished. She whispered low, "Life is but a dream on the way to death." God, she sounded so like Alucard. "You have all eternity to sleep."

He replied sadly, "There's no such thing as eternity, Miss."

Looking away Integra tipped her head back and swallowed the contents in a single mouthful, feeling it burn across her tongue and down her throat where it scorned her belly. Once the glass was completely drained the Hellsing-daughter laid it upside-down on the table. Alcohol in her blood, a warm sensation emerged her making her head light and loose.

_And Alucard!_ That stubborn insolent bastard. Did he really think that she would miss the opportunity to unveil the mystery behind Millennium, the secret organization that had manipulate events to kill her—not once but twice? No. Not never. Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn, especially that of Integra Hellsing. Yes, it was his duty to protect the Hellsing-daughter but his words and sultry comments had ensnared a fury inside her. It burned from the inside out. She thought of some horrible and scandalous punishment for the No-Life King? Leather, whips and chains ought to do it. No, he would enjoy that far too much. Something laborious, perhaps.

A flush of pain flashed across her occipital bone and the shot-glass shattered in his grip. The glass sliced through her palm and thick blood oozed out. Surprised, Integra glazed at her hand and her sapphire eyes focused on the thick priceless ruby droplets. Her mouth went dry and her tongue felt dead and useless. Ah…her malady!

Alucard was right—this charade was utterly futile and it would all end in vain, especially if Iscariot found out.

Two shadows dressed in elaborate silks approached, closing in towards the lone figure.

"Lovely specimen," a voice noted. "Wouldn't you agree, Wenham?"

Hearing this Integra peered over her shoulder and witnessed the two faceless shadows richly dressed approached, closing in towards her lone figure. Simultaneously they parted, one on each side. Their eyes ranked over her figure with immeasurable lust as unholy and violent images flashed inside their minds. She raised a suspicious brow at them as she twist in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and supporting her chin in her open palm. Integra studied them and noted that they appeared flawlessly identical, almost like twins—save one thing, their had different attire. One wore black with a white tie, while the other one wore the opposite, a stainless white suit with a midnight cravat. Despite their flaming eyes the brothers were attractive.

The one named Wenham purred, "I cannot disagree with you, Viggo. I do wonder if she tastes as well as she looks."

"Yes, I am so terribly thirsty."

Integra smiled and said, "My Master does not like to share. I am purely his and his only." _How terribly true._

The curious bartender peered over, running his eyes over her exposed flesh and noted reluctantly, "You are unmarked." Unmarked, meaning there weren't any scars associated with being a donor or a Blood-Concubine, which were commonly found on the wrists, neck, shoulders and the insides of the thigh. Integra had no such marks, save but the scar from the Baobhan Sith and it was hardly evidence enough to protect her. The young man turned pale enough to shame a ghost, his eyes were wet with fear since he had just sealed her death sentence.

Viggo inched closer licking his lips with great delight, anticipating the meal yet to come. "No humans allowed. Not without a Master. None."

However, Integra was clever and quick to reply, "You would see the rest of me." There were other places popular to drain a Blood-Concubine.

Wenham asked thickly, "Is that an invitation?"

A vampire with a scar running down one missing eye advanced closer. "I am Otto, Captain of security."

Viggo and Wenham exclaimed simultaneously, "A human without a Master."

Fuming with rage his eyes turned to the young woman and immediately his glaze softened. He took several long moments to study her. She was truly an exquisite creature, beautiful and the defiant glaze in her eye told him that she was spunky and a spite—but always the submissive. He asked suspiciously, "A Blood-Concubine, eh?"

"From The Covenant," she said with a humble bow.

Otto's glaze darkened as he snapped harshly, "The Blood-Bar has departed from the likes of them."

Humans, especially donors and Blood-Concubines were always submissive and further bowing low to the ground Integra replied softly, "Than consider me a present from my Master."

Eyeing her he asked, "For who?"

"For the Keeper, Marius Von Montague."

The man seemed to consider it. "And your sire?"

"Well shall we say that he is a very old Count…"

OOO

OOO

**__**

**_Unsuspected Guest_**

The Major of Millennium sat in front of the wall of TV screens with a steaming cup of hot coco and a smug expression on his round face. He took a sip of the warm contents and hummed in pleasure. It tasted like the nectar of the gods. His eyes watched over the screens in the Blood-Bar. The war was running smoothly and according to his plan. It would be glorious. Blood would soak the earth. He could almost hear the music—but first Marius Von Montague was a lose end that needed to be silenced. Marius was a natural coward but extremely resourceful and clever, otherwise they would have never hired him. Now, he had sadly outlived his usefulness. His remaining life was short, especially with Millennium and Hellsing tracing his steps, next to The Covenant. Could he feel the icy breath of death? Or even hear the last ticking beats of his life?

Suddenly a familiar face came into view, a face with sapphire-stone eyes, long silvery-blond hair, lean face and thin lips. It was her! Her! _The _Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. "Ah…" his face brightened at the face of Integra Hellsing. "Clever girl."

A voice quirked playfully, "I told you Hellsing was determined. They were closing in. Marius is good as dead."

The Doc covered in his bloodstained scrubs grabbed Schrodinger by the ear and shook him hard. The poor cat-boy howled in pain. He whispered some harsh words before releasing him and approaching the Major with the humblest of bows. "Marius will confess _everything_."

"It appears I must exercise my plan earlier than suspected," he cooed sadistically. "Is it ready, Doc? I have been waiting patiently."

A syringe materialized in the Doc's hands. It was a hasty looking instrument but the Major looked at it as if he was glazing at the face of a long lost lover. "Constructed to perfection, _Mein Herr _**O**. It can be fired through a musket, a bow or even a blow dart. They shall feel the prick and then no more. The process will be relatively painless but the subject must be relatively awake. I must not be disturbed."

"No. Of course not." Smiling the Major reached out and stroked the cheek of Integra's image. "Send in _The Hunter_."

OOO

OOO

Next—**_Flight Night_** A lot of action in this full chapter (1 and 2), practically a threesome between Hellsing, Iscariot and Millennium. Part one.

O Lilith_—_ according to some she was Adam's first wife

O Underground—a term for the _real _world.

O AR Program—Hey anybody remember this?

O The bartender—Yes, he is a Blood-Concubine. Being a Blood-Concubine does not necessary refer to women, men are popular as well. He does come back the following. Not an entirely big or important role.

OMein Herr—German for 'my Lord."

Yes. I am a SerasXWalter shipper. Deal with it. I hate Seras in the amine. She was such a pussy, so I want her to grow up. Yes, Integra is _in a way_ sick. Trust me, you shall find the cause of her malady—in the second to last chapter.

Ta lovers,

Immortalis.


	18. The Hunter

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing. There…moving on.

**Synopsis**—The Hunter is revealed and let the battle begin.

**Chapter Title**—Millennium

**Rating**—Just be mature folks.

**Author Notes**—Wow. 3-4 more chapters left. Oh but never fret loves, I have another underway, entitled _Two-Faced_ and another semi-one shot called, _Temptation_. Being wicked never felt so damn good. If you have ideas for Hellsing one-shots, give them to me please. Also, like most stories they come from my dreams, and so, I had another wicked idea. It wouldn't be as long as _Bloodlust _but picture if you will—"Integra becomes a victim of a most curious stigmata. Is it the work of God, or some deviant entity?" Do not get confuse with Female of the Species, another worthy Hellsing fanfic.

OOO

The Hunter 

--London, England

--The Blood-Bar

--12:45am

Once French aristocratic Marius Von Montague heaved an irritated sigh and roughly threw the older woman to the floor, spitting on her and turning viscously on his comrades, "My orders were simple—find me something _flesh_. Not old and rotten. I wanted something young. Something sweet."

Sure enough he did not want to tarnish his youthful face with the ragged and expired blood of a human. One thing about Marius, was that he was very self-absorbed, egoistic, a proficient liar and a cheat. For 330 years of age he was surprisingly well preserved—with butcher-blue eyes, baby-cheeks, gold-blond tresses and a smile that could charm an alligator out of its skin. His days of hunting were well over, now Marius turned to more practically methods of survival. The old ways of The Covenant were an utter joke to him. It was cliché to partake in traditions that were out of date and ridiculously foolish. Marius looked to a brighter future—mainly business. For the past century he had become as callous and cold as his recent employer, Millennium.

The ill-fated woman sobbed uncontrollably, clutching her bleeding neck and muttering her forgotten prayers. Now even as an atheist, she believed in God—but a bit too late for her part. She wheezed, "Please no…I have children. Jesus! Help me." Eyes wide she pleaded with him; however her hopeless prayers violated his senses and her bubbling cries and whimpers were like nails on chalkboard. "This can't be happening."

Marius seized her hair and exclaimed, "Look," he raged, "The thing just looks at me. And she won't stop it. I cannot focus…"

"But my Lord, she looks _fairly_ young," a guard commented.

He leered, "I want young as in pure and untouched—a virgin, if you will."

That was an impossible mission.

A fellow comrade known as Otto asked greedily, "And would you have me do, my Lord?"

"Oh, I think you know too well," he said sweetly and then growled, "Take the spoiled sow for your late dinner. Don't complaint to me about the taste. It was your own doing." Quickly the hungry guards took their leftover and enjoyed it on the other side of the veil. Her screams echoed into silence.

He settled down into his chair, poured himself a wine of virgin-blood and sipped the fine contents. It was almost sickly sweet. Marius heaved a disappointed sigh. It was so difficult to find a good suited donor, drugs were cheap and easy to obtain and nobody valued virginity. Immortality had become a tiring existence. No he wasn't suicidal, just bored. Marius longed for adventure but moments into an activity he lost all concentration. Now the Blood-Bar was beginning to bore him but he was their Keeper, and on the other side of the walls, The Covenant waited outside. Marius did manage to obtain numerous enemies, especially from The Covenant and perhaps Millennium. He had no one and did not need anyone. Like most vampires Marius was especially a solitary creature, walking alone with nothing but his eternal shadow companying him.

Wiping away a dribble of blood Otto replied thickly, "Sir, you have a visitor."

"Send them in, " he replied sharply.

His shadow recoiled and a woman approached through the beaded-veil. She was an exquisite creature with moonlit strands, sapphire-stone eyes and the figure of an angelic goddess. Her lean but muscular legs were begging to be parted and her busting beasts needed a good squeeze. And her neck! The length and the pumping veins were practically dying to be drained. At once Marius was interested. Perhaps Master Leng had sent him a Blood-Concubine as payment for his valuable services. After all, he did promised a gift "What a exquisite creature. Come closer." He patted the velvet pillows. "You shall be my guest, sweet thing"

"I am honored, _Marius Von Montague_."

There was something malice in the tone of her voice, but horny as hell, Marius ignored it. He shooed his guards away, leaving him and the mysterious woman to their personal solitude. "Well…well, I am curious—who is this creature who has paid me such a unexpected visit. I am not favorable towards visitors, especially those who are unannounced." Marius turned to refill his goblet. "Might I have your name? Who shall I call in the mist of my passion?"

_Click_.

He was staring down the barrel of a Glock .45 loaded with silver-mercury bullets. Her expression was slightly sadistic, almost as if she relished the sight of his face. "Call your guard and it shall be the last move you make."

"_Hellsing_!!"

Integra only smiled.

"Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing…" Battling the concept of her visit being a dream or reality, Marius simply stared at the Hunter. Or Huntress—she, herself had come for him, as Death in disguise. No! The Hellsing Heir had come personally. _Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. _Had the unthinkable happened? Did The Covenant bond with their enemy? His betrayal was unforgivable and would not be ignored.

_In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation._

It was Death. Death had come to kill him. To crush his body. And to soak the dirt with his dust. No! NO! Fear rushed over him. Marius blinked and it was replaced with wrath and intolerance. Fury fumed inside him, raging like some untamed demon. The fervid luster in his crimson eyes burned and his fangs gleamed in the candlelight. An animalistic growl rumbled in his throat, roaring like a furnace. "Ignorant! Impudent temptress! How presumptuous of you."

Unafraid she replied dryly, "Indeed…"

"How dare you come here, human! You know the rules." Marius paled and asked like a small vulnerable child, "Where is your night-dog, your Count?"

Sir Integra harshly chastised, "Shut it! I haven't the time or the patience for inquisitive and childish games. Listen…"

Marius heaved a sigh of relief. "I am listening."

Integra peered over her shoulder and lowered the gun. She whispered fiercely, "I have business with you. An offer, even a proposition."

His curiosity mounted to a new level. "Do tell, my Lady Hellsing."

"I want information. About this!" She pulled out a vital containing the FREAK-chip. It was floating in a sea of green liquid. Marius leered, squirming in the comforts of his chair. He was perplexed, as well as insulted. "Who is disturbing the chip?"

He smirked doubtfully, "I thought you would know."

Integra gritted her teeth. "Obviously I don't…what of _Millennium_."

"It is Millennium…by order 666. That's all I can tell you—but ask your guests. _Iscariot_ _knows_…"

"Liar…" she accused.

"Ask your Hellsing-dog and the Angel of Death…by your father's orders, they fought them half a century ago," Marius growled.

Integra pointed the gun harshly at gun and hissed, "Fifty years have passed. They survived. _You_ have been working for them. Don't be an idiot, vampire. _I know._ The Covenant is not the only monster looking for you, Mr. Montague. I know about the blood-betrayers. That includes the Bloody Baroness' concubine Laura, Incognito and _you_. You 3 went with Millennium."

Apparently it was true—The Covenant bonded with the Hellsing Organization.

"Than let's make a fair trade, Lady of Death." Integra rolled her eyes at the mention of the nickname, one that the underground community had personally given her. "I want blood," Marius leered greedily.

Integra pondered this. "Fine. One shipment of Medical-Blood."

He gagged. "No. Transfusion blood fucking sucks! I want yours. The Hellsing blood. You are a virgin, right?"

She responded flatly, "Not my blood."

"No? I imagine that you let your precious _pet_ suck," he yelled loudly.

The hidden guards moved in as once, charging in like a pack of starving dogs. A vampire leapt forward. Releasing a hidden blade from her girdle-belt, Integra lashed out and within a second a severed head rolled over its shoulders, flew through the air and rolled through the beaded veil. Doing so her blade glazed Marius' cheek. The headless body burst into a mound of dust and ash.

Otto was infamous for his speed and he grabbed her arm, disarmed and held her firmly in place. He snarled against her earlobe, "Blood-Concubine eh? Or assassin?"

"Hold the bitch in place."

A fist seized her hair and held her head firmly in place. Marius touched the cut on his cheek and glazed at his blood uninterestedly. The wound was already healed when he looked in her eyes. Integra matched the stare. "Been a long time since I have seen my own blood."

He smirked before savagely backhanding her, knocking her limp form in the guards' grasp. Integra swooned heavily and somehow managed to recover from the harsh blow. A dribble of blood poured from her lip and for a moment for head thundered with pain and her vision blurred. Strong and unfeeling as steel Integra Hellsing straightened, throwing her head to the side and giving him a fuck-with-me-and-die expression.

"Defiant little hussy. No wonder the Major fancies you so," Marius mused as he paced before her.

"What do you wish to do with the trollop?" asked a guard.

Soon scheming smile plastered on his face. "Silly thing. An unclaimed human within the Blood-Bar is an offense. Punishable, as well. As Keeper, it means I get to exercise my own judicial discretion," then he concluded, chuckling lewdly, "And you get to swallow it." Their laughing faces reflected in the light with glints of hot sadistic lust. "Oh, you shall be sorry for this. If you're not the sorriest piece of arse in London by the time the sun comes up, you'll certainly be the sorest."

Another round of laughter followed.

"But first a taste for my efforts." He dripped his fingers into her blood, smelled it and placed it on his tongue. He rolled the droplet in his mouth, feeling its texture and thickness. It was fair more agreeable than anything he had ever sampled. Far better than any Blood-Concubine at the prized Covenant or the Hose of Love at Mortensen Corner. "Whoring cunt. I shall drain you dry—but first, as promised I shall diminish your acclaimed title of 'the _Virgin_ Protestant Knight.'"

She flatly refused any emotion—anger or defeat.

"And to think that I get to deflower the great Hellsing-Heir."

A voice behind him replied darkly, "Not ever, _Marius Von Montague_."

There was a frightening degree of familiarity with that voice. _Too familiar_. Fear creeping up his spine Marius Von Montague turned, peering over his shoulder and he was blessed with a startling sight. It was the No-Life King. Alucard stood at the beaded-veil shrouded in his entire beautiful and yet terrifying splendor.

As Alucard crossed his arms he chastised, "Integra…Integra…"

OOO

OOO

Seras Victoria simply could not believe it—Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing was here! And the look on Alucard's face was priceless. Was it surprise or anger? A human in a Blood Bar was bad enough, but a Hellsing—it only complicated the situation. It made matters much worse. Glazing through the crowd she looked at her goblet and emptied the contents into a flowerpot, in which the strange deviant vine sprung to life twitching and staining out towards the dropping beads of blood. What a funny strange plant. A laugh of amusement escaped her lips.

Maybe she'll take it home and put it in Pip's room the next time he thought about messing with the water unit to her shower, shooting her thongs into the pine trees and then watching her jump up to get them. One day, she was going to fly. It took forever to wash the sap from her hair. And the thongs! Heck, those things weren't cheap! Especially at Victoria's Secret. However…Pip was as cute as he was annoying. He did have his moments.

She blushed at the thought.

Maybe she would take him up on his offer…

Suddenly there was a blood-curling scream and the Blood Bar erupted into chaos. The crowd became a mad mob, pushing Seras to the floor and fleeing towards the exits. There was a flap of paper attached the mount of the door. _A spiritual barrier? _

She recognized it and wheezed, "Oh no…"

A thick Irish voice hissed behind her, "Draculina…"

Her mouth dropped to the floor when she was the looming figure in the distance. A familiar figure of gloom and doom—a tall, handsome man dressed in gray, purple-trimmed priests robes, only his white pearly teeth and crucifix glittered brightly against the blanket of endless shadow. It was Him! Paladin of Iscariot, or according to Pip he was Bayonet-Man. She breathed out, "Father Alexander Anderson…"

The Judas-Priest was a vision of hell, his face twisted in rage and disbelief. He growled like the Devil himself, "What are ye doing here?"

"That's the funny thing isn't it? I can explain." _Crap-knuckles. I have horrible, horrible luck. What the bloody hell is he doing here? _Anderson tightened the grip on his beloved blessed-blades. Muttering a prayer, the Judas Priest advanced. _Say something!!! _"I—I didn't know a Blood Bar was—so—Alucard decided to play 'show and tell.' And here I am." The game was too childish for him. "I don't like it, so I am leaving."

Anderson demanded, "Where is Miss Integra Hellsing?"

"Home…" Seras said plainly.

"Liar."

"I _am_ a horrible liar, I am." She half-whispered to herself, "God Almighty! I have a lot to confess after tonight."

"I shall salt the earth with your dust."

"Father _please_!! Listen to me," she pleaded even as her voice stained. "Things are a little more difficult than what you know. It isn't _us_! The traitor is not within Hellsing." Anderson paused, considering her words. "We both know that there's some greater force at work. Something else. Please, don't do anything stupid. We'll explain later. _I promise_."

Still he loomed closer. "I oath of the Devil is meaningless."

Fanatic with panic she cried out, "Anderson _please_…_I _swear!"

He ranked his bayonets together releasing a rain of silvery-blue sparks. "Ye needn't beg, I _might _make this quick."

A blessed-blade lashed across her anterior, digging deep into flesh and even bone. The pain was exquisite. Seras Police let out a stuttered scream and the Paladin howled with thick sadistic laughter. A jet of blood erupted from her mouth like waves of lava spitting out of a volcano. Clutching the burning blade Seras' knees went out. It burned like Hellfire, scorching her tissue. She helplessly groped the wound and with a sob stumbled to the floor. Close to breathlessness Police-Girl wheezed, "Stop priest..."

"Find solace that ye'll be going to Hell before long" and then he mumbled a thoughtful prayer and raised the blade over her heart.

Vision clouding Seras whispered, "_Millennium_…It is them."

Eyes growing wide Anderson stopped and the bayonet fell harmlessly to the floor. He breathed thickly, "Heavenly Father…help us all."

OOO

OOO

The silence loomed in the room as the enslaved and fallen No-Life King glazed at his Master. Smiling wolfishly he had to admit that convincing Integra _not_ to come to the Blood-Bar seemed far too good to be true. It was an endless battle that Alucard was sure that he had won, since he saw her eyes faltered into the distance. For a moment he did pride himself for his cunning and manipulation; however, it proved all hopelessly in vain. It was a pity really. Still the sight of the Hellsing-daughter dressed in such a lascivious manner and pretending to spout herself as a Blood-Concubine only amused him and as always, prompted a roaring stirring in his loins. His fangs practically ache for her fresh and especially her blood.

It was not that he did not want her in such a place. True, it was infamous for its cruelty and tastes but mentally Integra was far was stable. She was crumbling, much to his disappointment and pleasure. The malady deep within her veins poisoned mind and body with deadly accuracy. Regardless she resisted against it.

What a pity.

Such a pity, really.

Alucard departed from his musings when Marius said, "My great No-Life King of the Trinity-Thrones **O** you honor me with your presence." As always he was well known in the Underground community—not only because of his enslavement to the Hellsing family, but his infamous path to immortality. He was the darkness of entities to do so. The guards when held the Iron-Maiden abruptly released her and parted away, inch by inch.

When he spoke it was cold as the rivers of Transylvania, "Funny. How quaint, considering your betrayal and departure from The Covenant, wouldn't you say?"

He paled another shade of deathly white, even as he stumbled over his words, "Here she is…the Lady of Death, Protestant Knight…She is helpless in this unholy place. God does not exist here. Take her if you will. I can be an excellent audience, you know."

He shook his head, not pleased with his offering.

Marius pleaded, "My Lord, I am sure that we can share her. I shall even take the sloppy seconds."

Alucard did not even pass so much as a glance; instead, his fiery glaze was focused on his master, Integra. He spoke indifferently, "You shall have nothing."

"I can be a great audience, you know," he offered again.

The Vampire-Lord growled, "Be silent." Even at The Covenant Alucard never liked Marius Von Montague, even as a vampire.

Again he urged desperately, "My great No-Life King take her. Feast on your vengeance. Restore your honor."

Alucard seemed to consider it. "No. I think not. My revenge shall be on _my _terms, not yours."

Beats of silence followed.

"Integra…" Alucard cooed with the intimacy of a lover's whisper.

She regarded him with a raised brow.

The No-Life King humbly closed his eyes and bowed on one knee before the human-woman with one hand pressed firmly on the blood-brained floor—which could be considered a blasphemous act from The Covenant. Such a submissive motion! Surely the Devil wept. Alucard flashed her his infamous Cheshire-cat grin and it was almost flirtatious, even coy. His voice was deep and husky, "Tell me…what are my orders? I am your slave, even _your bitch_. Shall I deflower you, even drain you dry? Perhaps even release you from your malady, compliments from your _nurturing_ grandfather…" Obedient and even passive, his words were harsh and hardly respectable. He raised a finger and pointed to the annoying form of Marius Von Montague. "Or kill _him_?"

Marius yelped, parting through the guards and fled out the doors, leaving the Master with her blessed and cursed present, the No-Life King.

Wordlessly Integra watched him leave with flushing anger and she glared back at her servant.

"Your orders, my goddess?"

Integra left without issuing one.

OOO

OOO

The night could not be more appropriate for chaos and bloodshed. It was a full moon, which bore through the murky gray sky as ruby red, the color of blood. The clouds danced by, moving by an unseen deviant wind. Regardless of the lovely midnight sight, Maxwell was not happy. Not happy at all. He had been deceived by that filthy Protestant whore, that bitch! True enough; she was the Devil's whore and conducting her own private investigation, which regrettably seemed to be most informative. If Alucard's enslavement weren't bound to the life of Integra, no doubt he would kill her.

Interrogating Walter and the foul Frenchman was hopeless. They claimed ignorance, but the sly grin on the Captain proved otherwise.

"The coiled serpent shall be judged," Heinkel said.

Yes, Iscariot no matter how embarrassed still held the Royal Inquisition. That calmed him somewhat.

He wanted to discuss a matter with the Hellsing Mistress, a rather delicate topic—Adam and Eve, or Lilith. Perhaps it would be a philosophical discussion between two directors, perhaps even as a man and woman. Maxwell searched the house and yet Integra Hellsing could not be found. _Then he knew._

Maxwell smirked as a vampire ran by panting and mumbling curses under his breath. "Lonny bitch. Damn them. The hell with The Covenant!!"

_The Covenant…the order of the Undead? _The Judas-Director breathed, "Impossible…" Wrinkling his brow he remembered Anderson's recollection of the discussion between Alucard and the Bloody-Baroness. Was it remotely possible that The Covenant knew something? Did they know Integra's Judas? Or the organization that crafted her demise more than once? And if so, did the Hellsing Organization side with them?

Lost in his thoughts Enrico Maxwell failed to notice the blond haired figure racing up from behind him.

"Uh Maxwell…"

As Integra dashed by, her hand reached into Yumiko's robes and pulled her beloved samurai sword from its scabbard. The Judas-Sister was lost for words as she exchanged a startled look with the Judas-Director. Maxwell followed her running form as she pursued the mumbling vampire. In a flash the agents of Iscariot followed, blades and guns pulled out and armed at the ready. Heinkel was muttering prayers under her breath with his typical hunting-crazy expression on her plain features.

Wearing high heels Integra moved surprisingly fast and graceful. "Marius!"

If Maxwell was looking at the night sky he might have noticed the two silhouettes dashing over the rooftops—one, as always the No-Life King and the other, unknown.

OOO

OOO

With warning Integra threw the blade with deadly precision and the flashing steel slammed into Marius' shoulder, pinning him against the stonewall. He crawled madly at the blessed blade and howled in agony. "Fucking silver! I ought to kill you, slut."

She smirked doubtfully. "You are hardly in a position to make threats, Marius Von Montague. Tell me, what is Millennium's mission?" Integra urged, grabbing the lapels of his collar.

In the distant darkness Iscariot appeared coming around the ally corner. They approached cautiously; blades and guns pulled out and armed at the ready. If it was possible Marius paled. Blue eyes wide he cursed, "O fuck me!! _Shit_!"

Ambling towards them Enrico Maxwell yelled, "Integra Hellsing! Halt!"

Iscariot was invisible to her—blinded by rage and perhaps her malady, Integra failed to notice them.

"Answer me!" Integra raged as her grip tightened. If the vampire needed to breathe he would have found the exercise near impossible. Fuming with desperation and irritation, she flashed her hand into her girdle-belt, pulled out a thin switchback knife and the glitter of steel reflected against the moonlight before it plunged into his fleshy chest. Marius shrieked like a frightened girl as he fumbled with the weapon, which remained latched between two-ribs and embedded in his bony sternum. Drool dribbled down his chin mixed with tears and blood.

He cursed, "Fucking bitch. You crazy whore!"

Integra noted sweetly, "A half-inch to the left and you would be nothing but dust in the wind, vampire! I said _answer me_."

Marius never looked at Integra since his glaze remained latched on Iscariot.

Within ten feet of the Hellsing-daughter Maxwell declared, "Enough! You are in violation of the Royal Inquisition. Submit to Iscariot authority. Now! Or force shall be administered."

Within seconds Maxwell found himself staring down the barrel of a .45 Glock, hammer pulled and prepared to happily blow his brains into an unrecognizable pulp. Her finger showed no sighs of consideration, submission or lack of courage. THE Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing stood with one hand on Marius' throat and chin defiantly raised at Iscariot. Despite the circumstance she remained iron-strong, firm, submitting not an ounce of potency. "Archbishop Maxwell," she said as if this was the first time she noticed his presence. "Whatever has prompted you to come to me? This is an unexpected and unsought honor, sir. Come yet again to hear my confession?"

There was something foreign in her voice. It seemed alien.

Heinkel straightened stiffly at her tone. She sounded like the No-Life King, Nosferatu Alucard. She hissed, "No confession shall save you now, Protestant-whore!"

Maxwell recoiled from the gun and replied gently, "Come now, Miss Integra. This is not the time for this nonsense. Someone might get hurt. An accident even. Stop this madness," he choked.

"_Madness_," Integra quirked. There was a crazy, almost possessed hazed in her sapphire orbs. No one recognized the figure standing before them. "Funny, would you not say Maxwell? I have never been celebrated for my sanity. True enough that my malady deepens… so do-not-fuck with this Protestant-bitch!"

Finally, she turned to the wounded vampire and asked deathly cold, "Answer Marius Von Montague. What-is-Millennium's mission, order 666?"

Marius huffed a laugh and replied evenly, "Total destruction. 'War with the Count…and _death_ to the Countess."

Death to the Countess… 

Suddenly there was lightning flash, so blindingly fast and bright that hardly anyone perceived it. However it was not an instrument of a storm like lightning or thunder but a magic silver-bullet dancing in the air and repetitively burying itself in Marius. He screamed once before bursting into a cloud of dust. Integra gasped and turned upwards, staring at the silhouette of a woman carrying a musket, long raven-hair and beaming white teeth. Red eyes blazed, glowing in the midnight air. "Ha! I knew he would talk. The clock is always right," replied the shadowy figure.

It was Rip Van Wrinkle, the Hunter.

TBC

**O** Trinity Thrones--At the Covenant, the organization is ruled over by 3 Elder-Nosferatus. At one time, Alucard held a seat along with the Bloody Baroness.

Finally! Next is an untitled chapter but it is where Hellsing—Iscariot and Millennium get in one big bad ass battle. Something deadly happens to Integra…Alexander and Seras team up…as the identity of Millennium is revealed and their need for the Master of Monster.

Give me some time. Remember I am a full-time college student. Love y-all.

Immortalis


	19. Millennium

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing. There…moving on.

**Synopsis**—The identity of Millennium is revealed and their need for the Master of Monster, Sir Integra Hellsing.

**Chapter Title**—Millennium

**Rating**—Just be mature folks. Violence, of course. There can be no Hellsing without it.

**Author Notes**—Wow. Each chapter is getting harder to write because my lack of time. I shall finish. I vowed if I post a story, I must finish it.

Nonetheless the rest the story has gone through some serious changes. Originally, I planned around ten chapters and it looks like it might a few more after this. At a careful second glaze I realized I wasn't going to give the story a creditable ending. It just wasn't going to work.

Remember I am a full time college student and have no life.

**99 Reviews!!! **Thank you all very much.

_Here and There, Everywhere_

--London, England

--1:45 am

OOO

"Ha! I knew! I just knew!" Rip chuckled sweetly, running her gloved hand over her cheeks and through her raven hair. The wind howled. Her cherry eyes danced wildly in the midnight air. A coy smile twitched on her ruby lips as she continued to stroke the beloved instrument of death. Thick, looming swirls of smoke danced like demons around her lithe frame. Glancing down, she gave a humble bow and replied, "Ah, a pleasure Daughter of Hellsing. As always, you are as persistent and vigilant. Anything less would be a disappointment."

Blue eyes staring up at the shadow-clad figure Integra whispered evenly, "The Millennium Order…"

Rip blushed playfully and answered cheer at heart, "Ja!"

Integra stepped closer to the wall, as her eyes remained upward, staring intently at the figure. "The last troop remnants of the Third Reich, The Letztes Bataillon," she continued as her voice drenched with hatred and a hint of amusement. "I must return the sentiment."

"Ja, Ja of course!" She beamed baring her fangs.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, "Whatever has you prompt you to humbly grace me with your presence? I am truly touched! No Valentine-Brothers, Baobhan-Sith or Incognito to bestow your regards to me."

"Aye," the Hunter replied darkly, "You remain watchful, even defiant against the so-called Fates, but it appears they smile on you. You are not yet dead. Millennium has been watching you from a far. Mein Herr **O** has taken a great interest in you. My Lady, you have certainly proven yourself amiable." Rip Van Wrinkle holstered the musket on her shoulder, dangling her wrists loosely on his frame as she paced on the edge of the roof. Keening she peered down and added teasingly, "What a perfect adversary, _Countess_…"

Integra's expression hardened as Order 666 played in her mind, '_War with the Count and Death to the Countess_.' How typical. Everyone wanted her dead, which only fueled her desire to live and cause maximum damage. With an undesirable sigh, she realized that would be something Alucard would say. Would her malady amplify by the passing days?

"'Like father like daughter,' wouldn't you say?"

Enrico Maxwell had enough with this pointless and yet possible increasingly dangerous situation.

Rip finally seemed to notice him. "Ah…what a blessed night—the Directors of Hellsing _and _Iscariot. Mmm? What a tragedy. What a comedy."

Fishing under his arm he released a Colt .35, clicked off the safety and aimed at the Hunter. Without a flicker of hesitation he fired, missing Rip only by half a foot, but still, his intention was clear. His voice was low, "Enough of this, Rip Van Wrinkle. By the authority of his Holiness you shall desist. We are the earthly agents of divine punishment, chosen by God and Iscariot does not falter at your sight. Be gone, Millennium."

Her face clouded but her voice maintained cool, calm and collected, "I am not under your influence, Priest. I answer to _my_ commander."

Maxwell smirked, "And wherever is the Mad-Major, little girl."

This time she actually growled. "Our business lies with Hellsing, especially the Countess."

"How romantic," the Judas-Director noted distastefully with his eyes on Integra.

In turn her eyes darkened at the accusation. "You flatter yourself, so refrain from _thinking_, Maxwell."

Rip cleared her throat and announced, "All your actions are futile, Archbishop. God himself would flinch at a woman's scorn. It is a ravishing flame. Millennium has been excessively patient for a moment such as this. The Major wishes a _private_ audience with you. With the Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing—or rather needs _something_ from you."

With a degree of possessiveness Maxwell hissed, "I think not."

"There's no point to complicate things," a voice quirked behind them. Gasping, the agents of Iscariot and Integra Hellsing spun around and peered cautiously at the figure of a boy, dressed in Nazi attire with cat-ears twitching out of his ashen locks. The young werewolf was undoubtfully thin and wearing, knee-length socks and military boots that were twice his normal shoe-size. He smiled kindly, if not flirtatiously.

Heinkel approached him cautiously but as a wave of clouds covered the moon, engulfing them in momentarily darkness—he had disappeared.

Then a maddening voice echoed over the sky, "Ha ha!" Now the cat-boy stood besides his comrade, Rip Van Wrinkle.

"How did—"

He replied, "Save your breath. _I am everywhere and nowhere_."

To herself Rip rolled her eyes. "Guten Tag, Schrodinger."

"And you as well, Rip." Beaming brightly Schrodinger flew an arm around her shoulder, gave a friendly squeeze and lost in his mirth, closed his eyes. He inhaled, opening one eye and asked teasingly, "How is the Captain?"

Surprisingly she blushed rosy pink and seemed unable or unwillingly to answer.

Schrodinger shrugged impassively and quirked, "Well what say you, Sir Hellsing?"

Integra parted her lips to reply but mechanical laughter echoed around them. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, rumbling into the endless night like water in the ocean. "Ha ha ha! HA! Glorious. Simply glorious!!"

It was the No-Life King.

He stood on the roof of one of the neighboring buildings, eyes dancing like two reflecting pools and a menacing smile on his thin lips. Alucard with the humble graces of a cat leaped down, floating like a leaf in the autumn breeze and landed on the cement with hardly a sound. Hands resting inside his pockets he walked towards the small crowd of Iscariot and the single Hellsing. The wiggling masses of shadows shredded off, revealing his infamous apparel of a trench coat, red knot fixed tightly at his chin and fedora sitting on his head.

"I love it when you run, my Integra." True enough, he liked it. She might have not issued him an order at the Blood-Bar but she certainly did not forbid him nothing. As Integra took to the streets, Alucard pursued from the roofs and kept staggering close with her footsteps almost mimicking to the last beat.

So had Millennium…

"How curious," he mused. "Them at last."

Maxwell turned fiercely at him and hissed low, "You fiend. This is your doing. Mad-thing, you shall spoil everything."

Alucard smirked doubtfully, "Your precious plan was terribly flawed, _Archbishop_." He managed to express the title like some putrid plague. "You and his beloved Holiness," he leered, "should have know better. Millennium has become a vengeful group. Their bloodlust can only be measured against _mine_. I am so terribly thirsty."

Surprisingly Heinkel Wolfe spoke and her voice was stern but carried a slight quiver, "For an unspeakable abomination you seem cheer at heart."

His inky eyebrows shot up, apparently pleased and impressed at her sudden boldness. A grotesque grin formed on his lips. "I am just happy. So happy that dreaded idiots like them exist." A deep pleasurable sigh escaped him even as his Cheshire grin twitched playfully on his pale bloodless lips. The image of Rip and Integra reflected in his shades as he said at last, "Millennium…the Last Battalion. That kampf gruppe of unhumans, led by the Mad-Major. To this day, the world is brimming with madness."

Maxwell replied grimly, "_A war to engulf the world in fire and death_…as much as you would dream to see it, it cannot and shall not happen."

"We have passed the point-of-no-return, Maxwell." At last he came before his goddess and enemy, Sir Integra Hellsing and as always came that familiar reply, "Your orders, Master?"

She was silent, weighting the options and the truth of his words.

His voice continued purring thick with honey, "Shall I destroy them? Grind them to dust? Soak the ground with their blood? I am a monster, Daughter of Hellsing. Your slave, your pet…your bitch. Give me the order, my Love, my Master."

She permitted the slightest of nods, which was authorization enough.

"Search and destroy."

OOO

OOO

The Hunter of Millennium Rip Van Wrinkle looked sickened, pale as ivory with wide unblinking eyes and breathed in gasping pants. It was as if she had just faced the devil himself. How ironic, really. She had pride herself as Caspar, the hero; however would it not be appropriate that her adversary be played as well? The world existed in pairs—light and darkness. Rip was yin so where was the yang?

It was truth enough.

True that Zamiel had appear before her. He had consummate with the No-Life King, twisting his body for his own demonic purpose, moving his lips to crush her spirit and perhaps drink her soul. Oh god! No! Now as her opponent ambled towards her Rip believed in God, as she once did so many years ago when she was innocent and foremost human. Lucifer existed, so must God.

However prayers seemed meaningless and she could almost smell the brimstone and feel the burning and licking flames hell. The magic musket trembled in her hands as a phase from _Der Freischutz _choked from her lips. "Take heed. For if thou presumeth to flirt with spirits…thou shall join them."

The Devil's vessel waved the Hunter closer and purred, "Come closer Caspar **O. **Why don't you sing for me, Rip Van Wrinkle?"

Utter despair and hopelessness melted away as hot waves of hatred flooded Rip, fueling her and preparing her. She holstered the musket, rounding on him and the moonlight danced, reflecting off her glasses. Her thick strands of ebony black hair whipped fanatically in the cool breeze. Rip replied, "My warhead will punish without distinction."

Her adversary smirked playfully and extended a gloved hand to her, saying, "Dance with Zamiel **O**."

OOO

OOO

_The Silent Captain _

--London, England

--Outskirts of the Blood-Bar

--2:01am

OOO

A very much alive Seras Victoria lead the way with the Paladin firmly close on her heels. Her wounds were beginning to close and the pain was tolerable, perhaps she was adapting to the smoldering stings of a blessed blade. In truth, young Seras was more surprised by the Paladin's 180-degree change of action than the tenderness. It was so strange, especially from _him_. Anderson, once blood-drunk was hardly an individual who merely stopped at the mention of a name, Millennium.

He looked as though he had seen a ghost, or rather the Devil himself.

Now he was silent as a haunted graveyard.

Her nostrils flared as she took in the scent of the night air. Despite the present circumstances, it was simply a lovely night; however, the abandoned alley displayed none of a night fragrances. It was a city-smell, thick with wet mold, rotten leftovers and forgotten trash. _What it this? _A different aroma interrupted the swarm of senses. Seras's cheeks blushed as she recognized the kingly, masculine and mature scent—Him.

Tapping the Paladin on the shoulder she motioned him to followed the curious and well-known scent of Alucard, her beloved Master and Sir Integra. "This way," she announced proudly. "I know where they are."

During their first and only lesson in vampirism, Police-Girl laughed at the idea that virginity could be distinguished through the natural formula of an individual. It was ridiculous. However, the olfactory system is the most powerful and sufficient method in triggering memory. Scientist argue that smell is the most primitive and most important sense by saying, 'we live by our smell.' Of course, we don't really notice it; instead, its function is more subconscious than voluntarily cognitive.

True enough, everyone had a different mixture of unique smells solely dependent on gender, habits, environment and of course, virginity.

Integra—of expensive, rich cigar smoke, lavender lotion and sweet virginity.

Pip—of thick liquor, cheap cancersticks, gunpowder and anything but purity.

Walter—of ageless parchment, an assortment of herbs and spices and beach.

And even vampires fluctuate in smell.

However…it was difficult to discriminate between her Master and Sir Integra. It was odd, considering their vast differences both in age, gender and humanity. She thought it would be plainly obvious—but it was not. Seras found it disturbing how their natural scents were alarming similar.

Of course, she kept that observation to herself.

It seemed that Father Anderson had spared her life, for now. The second after the name of Millennium spilled from her blood-soaked lips the entire demeanor of the unflinching priest changed. There was a terrible look of uncertainty on his face and his skin was sickly gray.

Glancing ahead she asked in an attempt to bring up small talk, "So…what's the plan? And then?"

"Kill them all."

The answer was strangely satisfying, but then again the Paladin was always very direct.

"And then?" God. She sounded like the Asian drive-through in 'Dude, Where My Car?' **O **Chastising herself Seras flushed in embarrassment, but the Paladin failed to notice or to comprehend the meaning.

He replied as though he was talking to a child, "_And then_, we fix this whole mess."

"Sounds like plan." Seras licked her lips, working up the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing her mind ever since he had spared her life. It was not a matter of personal curiosity, but she just _had_ to know. Finally she blurted, "Why are you doing this? You never did answer my question, you know. About Millennium? How did you know—"

Anderson interrupted smoothly, "Iscariot figured something like this might happen but all our efforts proved utterly in vain."

"You knew! All along you knew about Millennium!" Seras whispered fiercely. She simply could not believe it.

"Aye."

She gasped, "The Royal Inquisition was a farce. A lie!"

"Simply genius," he remarked dryly.

Seras was consumed by disbelief even as the betrayal and embarrassment seemed unbearable. She chastised herself, '_you are so bloody stupid!' You knew there was something so terribly wrong, so awkward about their questions. And what did you do? Nothing, of course._ "I cannot believe it. You are a bunch of rotten liars." A growl erupted from her throat, "You scheming, deceitful—"

"The deception was the point, vampire," Anderson explained in a bored flat tone, "No doubt Integra has her doubts but she can do nothing. His Holiness and her Majesty have taken pains to make sure. Do you really think that the proud Sir Integra Hellsing would accept protection willingly? Nay, not in a thousand years. Foolish woman. Her duty and pride will kill her, if not Alucard."

Seras corrected harshly, "He _cannot_ touch her."

Anderson quirked, "Really? And what if she asked him to—"

She challenged smoothly, "Integra asking Alucard, is like you asking me."

"I would never—"

"Exactly my point," she noted sweetly. "Besides, don't you think she might have a bit more obliging if you told her the truth about the Inquisition Order, I would have. Sir Integra is not being difficult on purpose."

The Judas-Priest snorted and rolled his eyes.

"She isn't. I mean it is so hard to put your feet in her shoes? Being a Director of a vampire-hunting-organization is not the typical wet dream of a girl. I can tell you that. She got the job when she was thirteen. Can you imagine being thirteen and managing deaths, a budget, training and a hormonal life of a teenager? Since you are a guy, I'll fill you in—it's sure not easy. Then you've got Alucard." A humble paused followed. "Need I say more? Not to mention another Director who is calling her a 'squealing English-sow,' trying to ruin her organization or interrogate her. And to top off the cake—another secret organization trying to kill her, not once and not twice, but _three_ different times."

He just glared apparently bored with her ravening.

Seras was not finished. "So naturally she's going to be a bit defensive. That's common sense, you know. In the meantime, it might be difficult for Iscariot—but remember we are all aiming for the same goal. Destroy Millennium and then we can go back to killing each other. Sounds like fun eh?"

A shadow emerged from the darkness…a tall and long figure dressed in a plain coat, military boots and an army cap. His golden eyes flashed brightly over the lapel of his jacket and his dirty-blond hair whipped against the strong breeze. Despite the battle brewing the stranger seemed uncommonly calm and still. From what could be seen his facial expressions were less than none.

Unleashing a pair of blessed blades the Paladin stepped closer and hissed, "_Thy Lord is my Shepard_…"

The voice of Seras Victoria finished the verse, "_I shall not fear_."

Together, the strange alliance between priest and vampire-fledging said, "_Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For thy art with me. They rod and shaft they comfort me_."

The Captain, as always said nothing.

"I never did thank you for borrowing your Bible," the Police-Girl whispered low.

For the time Anderson glanced at a vampire not in distaste or malice but with pride and curiosity. Then he smiled. The expression brightened his otherwise hooded eyes and sneering lips. "Your welcome, _child_," he added in a firmer tone, "However, ye didn't borrow it. Ye _stole_ it."

Closing in on the Captain Seras argued playfully, "Fine. Fine. 'Borrowed without permission.' I did return it, sir. Do I need to confess that, priest? Give penance."

"Perhaps later."

With a distinctive snap she loaded a .22 magazine, clicked the hammer and snapped off the safety. A flicker of disappointment crossed her features and she confessed half to herself, "I wish I had my cannon." Nevertheless, she was ready to rumble.

But a scream interrupted the coming battle and in an in unrecognizable flash of shadow, the Captain was gone, leaving the Paladin and fledging to chase ghosts.

OOO

OOO

_Needles and Pricks_

--London, England

--Main circle of the Blood-Bar

--Alley 4

--2:12am

OOO

Protestants had a knack for screwing things up and Sir Integra Hellsing was certainly no different. Stupid woman. Governed by her pride and arrogance, she was a moving target. Perhaps her demise would be the best thing; after all, the so-called 'Virgin Knight' was a heretic, who had willingly joined with the minions of Lucifer and even bound to him by blood. What unspeakable horror! What unforgivable blasphemy! However…and _big however_, he could not. Enrico Maxwell was a man of the cloth, an Archbishop under orders charged by his Holiness, the Pope. His mission was crystal clear, even if the Hellsing Organization did not know the true intention of his presence—"Protect the lifeline of Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. Refrain from contract with Millennium."

And of course, "Unveil the mystery behind the Hellsing Seal."

Ha! Easier said than done.

In layman's term everything was going down the crapper. "Damnation," Maxwell cursed.

Priest or not, Maxwell was a gentlemen even if she was a no good Protestant. But…Again and again, his wandering glaze traveled over her body—scanning heavily the length of her long neck, lean muscled arms and the heavy curve of her breast pressing firmly against the corset. His chastity oath be damned, it was indeed a lovely sight. However he noticed that lately her bronze tan had faded, leaving her slightly peaked and drawn like not enough butter over too much bread. Her lips contained a hue of grayish-blue and goosebumps prickled like a forest-fire on her skin.

"You must be cold," he noted.

Coughing discreetly into his hand he removed his jacket and practically threw it over her exposed shoulders. For some reason he felt if he actually 'physical' touched her, he might have violated personal boundaries and his role as a man of the cloth. It took a lifetime to create a reputation and only a mere fragment to destroy it.

_She was Lilith, not Eve._

Smiling in appreciation Integra pulled the fabric closer and asked, "How quaint…Inform me, does my half-nakedness disturb you, Archbishop? Or alarmingly pleasing to the eye, even to a man of chastity and poverty."

To his horror her face was smiling, which was a rare expression for the infamous Iron-Maiden but it was not a friendly or pleased look—it was wicked, sadistic and pleasurable. Again, it was like looking into anything but the face of Integra Hellsing. It was a stranger. A powerful temptress. Even her luscious blue eyes, which reminded Maxwell of a pair of priceless sapphires, seemed to have lost their luster and darken considerably.

"I said that you must be cold," he corrected harshly.

"Concerned about my health—" a pause "or more so, the Hellsing-Seals?"

"Aren't you?"

Integra did not answer.

"Your relationship is an odd one—a mixture of hate, respect and perhaps _admiration_," he took a measurable paused, watching her response like a hawk stalking a field mouse. Maxwell leered distastefully, "He kills for you."

"Well…" she mused with deliberate sweetness, "I am the Master of Monster."

Maxwell insisted desperately, "I urge that we depart. Let your pet bring the spoils of his battle. As much as it difficult to say, Iscariot prefers you alive rather than dead."

Integra closed to her and deeply considered this. She whispered softly, "Yes, of course. Let us depart."

A dart flew through the night air and buried itself into the neck of the Iron Maiden. A gasp of pain escaped her lips as she groped her neck—but nevertheless it was too late. It had administrated its effects. The image turned thick and foggy, even as sound melted away leaving her in empty world of foreboding silence. Integra glazed blindly into the blackening world. Shaking her head, she tried to blink it away. Next her breaths turned to thick wheezes, her knees wobbled under weight as she stumbled in her uneven steps…even as the syringe started to fill with a crimson fluid—the Hellsing blood.

"Oh God…what is…" the voice trailed off as her eyes rolled madly into her skull. "Enrico…"

"Whatever it is now, Integra?" Maxwell peered at her and yelped as Integra fell against him, sliding towards the ground. Gasping he gripped her upper arms and struggled to hold her up. He asked fiercely, "Integra…Integra whatever is it? Wake up, damn you!"

Heinkel and Yumiko rushed over to his side, each taking an arm and peering intently at the Protestant.

"Archbishop?"

"Integra? Look at me! Curse you, I said look at me." Maxwell murmured, "Something isn't right?"

Catching his eye, the syringe glittered brightly and practically winked at him. Maxwell scoffed and deliberated pulled it out. He glazed at the cruel instrument with puzzled confusion, curiosity and mounting concern. A waking moaned disrupted his thoughts and without hesitation he toss the apparatus into the shadows.

_Perhaps, a most unwise decision…_**O**

Wincing Integra blinked, and the fog of dizziness lifted just as fast as it had come.

"It's gone. Nothing to be concern about. Come we must return. Now."

OOO

OOO

Locked in a close-quartered battle, Rip the Hunter and Alucard struggled madly with the musket, roughly jerking it and snarling incoherent curses. Magic bullets fired blindly into the midnight sky, flying like falling stars lost in their own destination and illuminating the darken roof. Tears of fright and rage soaked her cheeks, which fueled an ominous smile from the Mad-King. It was a splendid sight. So majestic and so bloody.

What a perfect start for the coming war.

The young Lieutenant had certainly matured in the past half-century. In 1944 she was a twitchy, nervous and uncertain childe, a product of Millennium based on quantity rather than quality. But much had changed. Now she was a fine superior creature, a Hunter. Nay. The Hunter Caspar.

_Der Freischutz_!

How laughable!

Ironic that Rip believed that she was Caspar, the hero of the opera. It was certainty the same as the Devil's own deed. Perhaps she failed to remember the infamous ending of her role. In the end, the Hunter Demon King, Zamiel, whom he had dallied with, took Caspar to Hell. Nothing more than another addition to his modest and noble collection of lost, forgotten and sinful souls, which was not any different from his own. The similarities were unparallel.

Surely he would play Zamiel to her Caspar; but now, this game had become tiresome.

"Freak-bitch!" Zamiel-Alucard snarled. "I cannot be killed by nothing but a human, a man. Not you." He lashed out, gripping her raven hair and smacking Rip—hard. A jet of blood erupted like spitting lava from the gaping mouth of a volcano. Thick shards of glass from her spectacles shattered from the violent impact as she fell to her knees. Alucard lifted the Casull and fired point-blank into her shoulder, missing her heart by a few inches. It wasn't a mortal wound but necessary if he wanted to subdue her to force her into his horde of souls. She was better investment alive rather than dead.

Rip crumpled to the ground, sniffled a painful moan and then collapsed limply.

"An amiable fight, Rip Van Wrinkle but all terribly in vain."

As Alucard, triumphant as last, strolled towards the fallen figure of Rip Van Wrinkle a silhouette blocked his path—it was the Captain. Despite fifty passing years he remained the same individual both in appearance and temperance. His dirty blond hair was slightly disheveled and his green Army grab ripped and bloodied—but his face was stony stoic, expressionless. Harsh bristles of thick hair materialized on his cheeks, ebony claws sharpened his hands and his eyes shined like two golden orbs.

"It is _you_," he replied with a bored tone. "Always interrupting me. At first it was charming and even amusing, but now, you have succeeded in pissing me off."

As always he remained silent.

"Still nothing to say?" The No-Life King smiled wide and noted sweetly, "So you want to play? I admit I am utterly bored with her, but I shall drink her dry. One day, I tell you. Some faithful day when you are not there to protect your Huntress. Caspar will make such a lovely addition to my horde," he added cruelly, "_or harem_."

The Captain's glaze darkened dangerously.

"Ahhh…finally a response, you mute bastard."

There was a snap, sharp as a slave whip and loud as lightning.

A lock of dirty-blond hair detached and fell to the cement. Then a single paper-thin gash materialized on his cheek and the blood trickled out, staining his lapel and glistered against his skin.

Next a bifocal gleamed in the darkness and the figure of Walter C. Dornez; the infamous Angel of Death emerged with his microfilaments dancing around him. There was a charismatic and even mischievous twitching smiling on his lips. Despite his age he moved with the lethal graces of a predator stalking its prey. His cool gray ice regarded the Captain with a twitch of irritation and alarm. "It is you Captain, even after all these passing years."

The Captain peered intently between the Angel of Death and his fallen comrade—but apparently his intentions were fixed as he gathered Rip into his arms and scaled off the roof and into the endless abyss of shadow.

OOO

OOO

_The Missing Puzzle _

--London, England

--Main circle of the Blood-Bar

--Alley 4

--2:45am

OOO

Now it was quiet and still, almost as if nothing has happen. Save but the broken windows and crumbled bricks there weren't any evidence of neither Hellsing presence nor the battle than had viciously transpired. Besides it was the Blood-Bar, no human would notice and without a doubt the frequent visiting vampires and werewolves wouldn't even care.

Then came the calm steady sound of approaching footsteps, which were light as a feather and smooth as silk. Dressed in his Nazi attire and playing with discarded feather at the Blood-Bar, it trickled his nose and smelled sickly sweet. The cat-boy inhaled deeply. _Beautiful night._

It was a shame that night wasn't eternal. The day was so overrated.

Schrodinger turned to his memory of the cute, feisty fledging who wore the suggestive Porn-outfit, but he knew that wasn't her typical attire. Still, he liked it. She was Miss Seras Victoria, childe of Lord Alucard. _What spunk! What beauty!_ If only, she wasn't a member of Hellsing. If only…

BUT the mission had been a total failure—Integra Hellsing escaped and foremost was unscathed, despite vast differences Iscariot remained loyal but reluctantly, Rip was injured and then Walter C. Dornez appeared. Mmm! He was no longer the young 14-year old punk, who smoked cigarettes and cursed enough to shame a sailor. _No_. Major would not be pleased. A dead's head is no face for the Angel of Death. Then there was Alucard. Apparently he had returned to his normal guise as a male; but, he was a bloodthirsty, violent and powerful as ever.

What a superb declaration, since it would war. Glorious war!!

Again, the orchestra would have to wait. Millennium still did not the missing piece of the puzzle.

"Well _that_ was a waste," replied Schrodinger with a sigh and glanced at the ground, snuffing the dust with his shoe. He opened his cat eyes and peered down as something sparkled brightly next to his shoe. "Perhaps not…"

"Don't touch it, Captain Schrodinger. It must not be spoiled," came a voice.

It was the Doctor.

Schrodinger watched the man dressed in the bloodstained lab-coat collect the instrument with motherly care and place it in a mini-carrying case. The Doc peered at the syringe and said with a satisfied grin, "Not quite a failure." Inside remained the essence, the blood force of the Master of the Monster, the Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.

The Mad-Major would be pleased.

Very pleased.

TBC…

**Mein Herr**—German for 'my lord."

**Caspar**—The hunter in _Der Freischutz, _Rip's favorite and trademark opera.

**Zamiel**—the Devil in _Der Freischutz_.

"**And then?"**—From the comedy 'Dude, Where's My Car.' If you want to annoy the crap out of someone, keep saying 'and then?' after someone says ends a sentence.

Perhaps, a most unwise decision—Remember! Remember this! 

I have no idea how old Maxwell is. I figure late twenties or early thirties.

Someone wanted some SchrodingerXSeras, so I hinted about it.

Truth be known I have no idea what color the Captain's eyes are but I figured since he is a werewolf, yellow seemed perfect. I figured Rip and Alucard have had several fights and yet he never manages to finish her off, mostly because of her Captain. Yes, I ship RipXCaptain. That's why in volume 5 he took his time. It was long overdue.

**Next** is Chapter "_Blood is the Life_"


	20. Blood is the Life

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing in any way.

**Chapter Title**—_Blood is the Life_

**Rating**—PG13 to R

**Synopsis**—Millennium has obtained the final piece of the puzzle, the blood essence of the Hellsing but the Blood-Bond is more inmate than ever thought possible…and Integra comprehends the full meaning of her malady.

**Author's Notes**—The goal is to finish this fanfiction during Christmas vacation. I have a full month, so there's no excuse. I sure hope so, but my two jobs are really cutting into my job and there, of course next quarter is approaching. No. I am not thinking about school until I absolutely must. Ta my loves…

Ta,

Immortalis

_**The Fools of War **_

OOO

"Alas the world is brimming with madness. Excellent! Simple wonderful. It makes my spine shiver." The Mad-Major clapped in kid-gloved hands together as he peered at the wall of screens, in which movements before the action of the Blood-Bar played out before like some sick, twisted reality show that only the truly insane would take pleasure in. Each individual held a frozen image, many of which held the majestic, unyielding and strong face of one Sir Integra Hellsing. Here they were! His enemies. _Their_ adversary in this World War. Savoring the sight, his pudgy face disordered into what could be a joyful smile and he practically bounced in his chair. "Wonderful!"

His maddening eyes glazed over towards the red-robed figure standing within the cool comfort of the shadows. Ever since their approach no words or noticeable gestures had been exchange. The stranger simply stood there, arms crossed and chin pointing down, silent and practically invisible. Hoping to spark conversation he said, "What delicious fun. I am ecstatic! Giddy with joy."

Like the Captain the lone figure did not speak.

The Major tried again, "War is delicious, wouldn't you agree? It is like a fine wine and must age for perfection. I imagine you have seen enough war to become a worthy master, Madame."

Again nothing.

"_Hellsing_…" he tasted the word with relish. "The Virgin Knight. What an exquisite creature. So full of spunk and life…then the young fledging, Seras Victoria… And…" he clicked the remote revealing a photo of a English butler who if not for the fierce expression of determination on his aged face, would have seemed to step out of a Jane Austen novel. "My beloved Angel of Death. Old age does not suit him. Nevertheless I have plans for him."

"And _He _is as violent has the first time I saw him—dancing between madness and sanity, life and death." Now the screens were saturated with imagines of the No-Life King. "Simple breathing taking. _Them_. The Master and the Monster. But, I can imagine the enslavement of a Nosferatu is one embarrassment enough. Perhaps insulting? I know that the Black Veil is way for your Realm…humans are cattle, you feed on them. They are pets, playthings. So ironic that for _Him_ the tables are reversed."

Still nothing.

"I can hear the music of war. It is beautiful. The world is broken and falling into chaos….Alas we shall savor war without limit." The Major replied in a softer almost carefully calculated tone, "I feel that you, Blood Maiden do not feel the same," his voice was cool and calm.

Finally a response and a crisp smile curved discreetly on blood-ruby lips. When the strange spoke it was feminine and carried eons of lifetimes, "I have learn Major to never celebrate victory before the end of the war. One might express ignorance and even arrogance. I have seen the past become legend, so heed my warnings well…"

"Fair enough."

"This," a paused and then, "_re-acquaintance_ is solely business, Major. You have something I need and I have the talents you want. Outside of that, civility is a useless and foolish practice. We are warmongers, creatures who are in need of nothing, but in the same in need of everything. I pray you forestall your pleasantries, I am not a childe or a fledging."

The Major quirked playfully, "Of course not.

The Doc typically dressed in his bloodstained lab coat came into the room holding a small case. "Mein Herr, everything is prepared." He snapped open the case and a trail of mist erupted pooling out of the corners but nevertheless, the main attraction showed like a star in the midnight sky. All eyes focused on the two vials. The stranger's hand reached forward and peered at the contents, the blood and currency of the soul of the No-Life King and Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. Swirls of blood danced like a gypsy's ribbon in the light, which fueled another ominous smile and she replied thickly, "_Blood is the life_."

The Mad-Major studied her expression, apparently well pleased with himself. "I trust with this that we can possible edge the gap between our organization. Heal the wounds."

Peering over her cloaked shoulder she replied icily," _Possibly_…but I seriously doubt it."

The Major laughed, "Of course! Naturally." Catching his breath and standing to his feet he added, "I believe we are ready for the main attraction."

Carrying the vital marked Hellsing the red-robed Blood-Maiden strolled out of the surveillance-chamber and through the wide door, which lead out into the main floor of Grafzeppellin II. As she descended down the steps with the Major and the Doc, a thousand pair of ruby eyes peered up from the darkness. They sparked with curiosity and displayed madness. Here they were—Millennium, the Last Battaloin of one thousand freak-Midans. Skipping up the steps Schrodinger gave a dramatic bow to the Blood-Maiden and quirked, "A honor, _Mistress_."

The Doc warned, "Schrodinger."

"Meet our werewolf protégé, Schrodinger. Fancies you…an admirer of yours." Despite the eons of dispute between vampires and werewolves, the Blood-Maiden actually smiled, a sensational expression of mirth and interest. Her pale hand materialized out of her robe like an eel emerging from its cave. The cat-boy perked up, eyes flashing with eagerness and a flirtatious smile playing on his lips. As she caressed behind his ear, Schrodinger twitched his leg in uncontrollable misfits and purred.

She whispered, "Sweet thing," and continued down the stairs.

"Flaps turning. Altitude good," reported the first mate.

"Close the windows," the Major ordered.

The Nazi blinked and protested, "But sir! We shall be flying blind."

"There's nothing up here."

He cleared his throat and said, "Apologies Mein Herr. Close the windows."

One by one the flaps covered the windows. It was a massive chamber and now, the walls and ceiling were so uncommonly dark that they appeared not to exist, giving an illusion of eternal night. Vial still in hand her eyes matched the shade of blood and refused to leave it. She descended to the main floor and wordlessly the Midans departed like a wave upon a rock until the Blood-Maiden reached her spot desired. Next she took a stick of chalk and proceeded to construct some design into the cement—It was the Hellsing Seal.

On the bridge the Doc cast a nervous glance with the Major and asked weakly, "Is this wise, Major? Can we trust _them_?"

He laughed again; it was a crisp sound and echoed in the room. "No. No more than they trust us."

"Than _why_?"

The Blood Maiden popped the vial open and in a calculated dance proceeded to spill the Hellsing-blood along the white-chalk lines of the Seal, masking them. Her movements were precise and delicate, as God's were when he crafted man in his own image. When she spoke again it carried an edge of menace, "Because Doctor you do not know the way. You have forgotten the order of the world. It is not property, but an instrument of thought and manipulation…" She shattered the empty vial in the palm of her hand, glass flying and reflects of the shards danced in her crimson eyes. "Like the Dreamworld."

OOO

OOO

_**Threatened Bonds**_

_--Hellsing Headquarters _

_--Conference Room, 3rd Floor _

_--3:34am_

OOO

If things could get any worse, now was the perfect moment. True enough, the trip to the Blood-Bar and the brutal short interrogation before Marius Von Montague's overdramatic death, led the Hellsing Organization to believe that the situation was indeed as sensitive and dire as thought. Order 666, 'War to the Count and Death to the Countess.' _Simply lovely_. Of course, the information would be worthless if Iscariot exercise their full judicial power under the Royal Inquisition. All work would be fruitless and wasted. Now everyone, including Sir Integra, Alucard, Walter and Seras Victoria were locked securely inside the Conference Room on the third floor with Iscariot agents at the only entrance/exit, and of course, blessed-barriers set firmly in place. No one, human or not was leaving.

Iscariot however, was modest and kind enough to allow the women of Hellsing, Integra and Seras Victoria to change out of their indecent attire—but under strict supervision. Now the Mistress of Hellsing sat down in the same place during the Valentine invasion with the same indifferent expression on her face. Nevertheless, this time she seemed drawn like not enough butter on toast and sickly pale, perhaps the latest adventure had taken the last bit of energy and rest from her. Then again, maybe it was worry. Of course, there was the possible permanent loss of her knighthood, her organization and God forbid, sterilization.

The Conference doors flew open, causing everyone to jump in a panic even as a familiar figure appeared—a certain auburn-haired mercenary, dressed in jeans and a ragged tanktop with an eye patch firmly in place. Quirking playfully he said, "Santa, I have been a naughty boy. I deserve a spanking." He smiled sheepishly, titling his hat towards them and blowing an invisible kiss to Seras Victoria. "Hey baby."

However with a firm and none to gentle shove from Paladin Anderson, Pip practically stumbled into the room. "Get in there, ye heathen," the Judas-Priest said in tone that was more suited when talking to Alucard. His olive eyes burned with frustration. Turning towards his comrades he ordered briskly, "Heinkel and Yumie. Watch this miserable cretin. He is a sly thing. Clip his wings."

Nodding together Yumie and Heinkel, both banishing their preferred weapons and training them on the man, quickly followed the Frenchman. Straightening at once Pip raised his arms in a gesture of surrender and peace. He replied sweetly in his best sugar-daddy tone, "You caught me, sweet cakes. Shall we make love and not war?"

Yumie flashed her black eyes at him and asked menacingly, "Heinkel-chan, permission to slice and dice him into unrecognizable pieces?"

"Perhaps later."

Pip shrugged his shoulders and winked, saying, "Come on, you can share me." He pointed to each one in turn. "Heinkel-baby, you can get everything above the belt while _you_," now Yumie, "can get everything below. Trust me that where's the good stuff is. Right Seras?"

The Police-Girl turned a violent shade of red and stuttered, "Wh—what?"

"Never mind her. Seras is so modest. Who's in for a threesome? I'll be in the middle." After that comment both Iscariot-girls left the room, slamming the door and causing it to even shake in its frame. Pip laughed before pulling off a cigarette, lighting it and taking in a long measured puff. He relaxed his shoulders and replied huskily "Merde **O**…What a disappointment, really? Sure, I bet they are virgins in body, but most likely whores in the mind. You know," he continued turning to Alucard and said, "they are secretive. Sweet _virgins_—fierce…eager, once you get them hot and moist, and aggressive. Fucking tigers beneath the sheets."

"Thank you for the elaborate lesson Captain," Integra replied stiffly.

Seras crossed her arms and hissed, "I'm a virgin, Pip."

"We know."

Smiling Alucard straightened in his seat and stated plainly as-matter-as-fact, "I am impressed, Pip I expected you here earlier."

"I was just snooping around," Pip answered causally as he adjusted his eye-patch and scratched himself. He quirked playfully, "On the related subject…I know you must have been pernicious with the ladies. Confess Big-Red, weirdest place to have ever bang a chick? I thought an airplane was different. Fucking sweet but not enough space. I like some elbow room."

Alucard inhaled and was apparently lost in the deep traces of his memory. Finally grinning he answered with a gleam in his eye, "Inside a garden **O**."

Pip could hardly contain his surprise. "Really?" The vampire nodded. "That's good. Tell that to the Paladin, that would piss him off. Tell me, _everything._

"I shall leave that to your imagination, Pip."

"Who?" he asked eagerly.

"A redhead."

"A natural redhead?"

Alucard merely smiled. "I believe she was sleep-walking."

The Frenchman clapped his hands together, applauding the No-Life King but abruptly turned and inquired, "Hey Butler! How about you?" It was strange that the infamous Angel of Death could flawlessly slice things with dental floss but blushed at the slightest hint of his once aggressive and frequent sexual history. True enough his cheeks were red and warm. Walter darted his eyes to the side in embarrassment and an unwillingness to answer and entertain their interest.

"Walter…" encouraged Alucard. "Perhaps, Madame Wu's House of Blooming Blossoms in Japan was—"

"_That's enough. _As fascinating as your sexual adventures are, I really don't care. _And_ Alucard," she added, "one more mention about _that_ incident and I promise that I shall chemically castrate you."

Fear flashed across his face but he replied sweetly, "Of course, my Love. Which incident? Are you referring to the House of Blooming Blossoms or my interaction with the redhead?"

"The garden."

Alucard exhaled his disappointment.

"Report Captain" Integra ordered.

Smiling like an idiot, Pip bowed as he extended his arms and sat down. He plopped his feet up and said, "You know for how high Iscariot thinks they are…they suck shit at security. The idiots called in _more_. More Iscariot agents. I counted about 30 to 35. Cockroaches are crawling all over the place…the barracks, roof, kitchen, and subbasement. Half are pooling through the library. Nobody is coming or leaving. Besides I heard that," he continued quoting the next with fingers quotations, "'_Archbishop_ _Asshole_' calling up the Round-Table, the Queen and even his royal fucking Holiness, the Pope."

Seras exchanged a nervous glance with Walter.

"Bitching about how you broke contract." He paused taking in another toxic breath of smoke. Pip cast a nervous glance towards the locked doors and finished, "Hate to say it Boss, but the shit has caught the fan."

When Alucard spoke his voice carried an edge of menace, "Integra…you know what they are doing."

"That I do."

The Police-Girl wrinkled her brow. "Whatever are you talking about?"

Integra fell silent as her cool eyes studied, tracing the age-lines of the Round Table with her fingers. "Like you said Captain…nothing goes in or out. Iscariot is disrupting time in order to manipulate the circumstance. By the time I can plead my case or display the evidence it shall be too late. Diplomatic actions would have taken place."

"Worse case scenario," the Butler cleared his throat, "Sir Integra is arrested…the organization destroyed…England falls under Iscariot jurisdiction…and—"

Pip finished as forethought, "And we are out of a job."

Alucard added bitterly, "You and I child, are exterminated."

"They wouldn't. Cannot," she protested.

"Furthermore would…could…can and _shall_ do so."

OOO

OOO

Something wasn't right.

That at least was for certain.

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing stared out of the window, watching the priestly-robes agents of Divine Punishment scattered about like lost, hopeless insects. Bastards! A wave of shivers violated her body and she desperately gripped the windowsill, fingernails grinding into the wood and bracing against the nausea. Again she blinked through the fog of blindness. Wet hot beats of sweat formed on her brow, upper lip, and slid down her back, soaking her chemise. Her head rolled limply on her shoulders. God, it felt like her blood was practically boiling insides her veins.

While the misery swelled like a blooming rose a pair of ruby-eyes watched with a hint of curiosity and sadistic pleasure.

Walter came by with a cup of tea with his usual professionalism. "Iscariot was kind enough to send some Green-Herbal Tea and a note from Archbishop Maxwell. Care to read it, or shall crumple it?" A pause, "Sir Integra are you well?"

She joked bitterly, "Mentally or physically?"

"Whatever which applies…"

"I am well," she replied firmer.

Finally several agonizing moment Integra strolled over towards her pet-servant. "Alucard…I want you to," she began but her voice faltered when her eyes settled on his gloves—the signals of the Hellsing Seal glowed brightly even as their bondage came into question. Integra blinked and peered harder. No! It was impossible! "What the bloody hell? This is your doing, vampire," she accused harshly. "Are you mad?"

He shrugged his shoulder impassively and stated, "That is a rather contradicting statement, wouldn't you say Integra?"

"You wouldn't…_not_ again," she harshly whispered.

Alucard replied, "_It's not my doing_…"

"Alu…Alucard…" came the last audible words before the Hellsing-Daughter fell against the table and crumpled, collapsing towards the Persian rug with a loud and distinct thud.

The Police-Girl rushed over crying, "Sir Integra!"

A voice boomed, "Don't touch her." Cautiously Alucard peered down studying Integra with wide inquisitive eyes. He leaned over her and inquired in a low rich voice, "Well…well, whatever have you gotten yourself into, my Love?"

Walter growled in a tone that few had heard before, "Count."

"What did you leave behind?"

The ill-fated Hellsing Daughter wrinkled her brow in confusion.

He asked more urgently, "Did you leave something behind?" As he touch her cheek her flesh corrupted his but soon enough to catch a glimpse—_an image of Millennium and a certain red-cloaked figure…a Hellsing Seal crafted from blood…_Alucard removed his redcoat and draped her within its comforts, and then cautious not to taint fresh carried her towards the Round Table. He sprawl her, none to gentle on the wood. There was a fraction where he savored the sight of her, the last descendant of his captor and first Master, Abraham Van Hellsing, as she withered in agony and winced in pain. Yes, he memorized the image to perfection—the Virgin Knight broken and wounded laying at his feet…eyes rolling and glassy…saturated in sweet sweat…skin so pale—it was such a pity.

"Pathetic Hellsing-Daughter," he leered. Standing to his feet up top of the table Alucard removed one glove and sliced open his wrist. A thick stream oozed from the wound in a steady flow. In a slow deliberate dance of tantalization the droplets of blood fell, staining the white chemise beyond repair and plastered her flesh. Next using his own essence as the ink, the No-Life King crafted a crude version of the Hellsing Seal around her. "Fools of war." Growling like a rabid dog he fished underneath his tie and pulled off a necklace, ripping it cruelly off his neck—It was amulet, crafted from ebony-glazed stone and heavily stained with age. Designed as a snake with ruby-stone eyes eating its tail, making the infinity sign **O**.

The reflection of the instrument danced in the whites of her eyes, even as full meaning sunk in. The No-Life King attempted to lace it around her neck but Integra lashed out, knocking it aside. Her face was an unimaginable expression of disgust and rage, even against the pain and failing Hellsing-Seals. She stammered hotly, "I—I shall not—shall _not_ have that _thing_—thing on me…"

Alucard seized her collar in a pique of rage and hissed, "Take it. Your cross is useless against the Dark-Arts."

Integra accused, "You—you are not saving me—_not me_ but—but _your opportunity_."

Catching her eye he couched down, pinning his knee into her shoulder and resting a hand next her head. Too bad, Seras Victoria and the Angel of Death were focused on the approaching voices of Iscariot; otherwise they could have seen the display. Integra crawled at his knee as he increased the pressure. Grip still latched on her collar Alucard ripped the shirt, displaying her flat belly, bony hips and bra. Again, dripping his finger into his wrist he finished the design with a star on her stomach.

"Brilliant. Simply brilliant, my _Countess_."

Together they pupils dilated as both went from time and space…

OOO

OOO

_**Falling But Not Yet Broken **_

OOO

With a satisfied smile the red-robed individual nodded towards the Major and said, "The Blood is dying…"

"Good. Very good. Everything shall move ahead."

Then strangely the lines of blood oozed towards the center, moving and slithering as if it had a conscience of its own and aware of Millennium's intention. It shifted like liquid mercury, smooth and graceful. And yet, the Hellsing-Seal remained intact and furthermore, unbroken.

Blinking Schrodinger leapt to his feet and ear itching in alarm replied, "I am no sorcerer, voodoo priestess or whatever, but something tell me that's not what's supposed to happen."

Loading a silver bullet Rip snapped, "Simply genius, catboy."

The Doc trembling with fear turned to the red-robed figure and cried out, "Whatever is this deviltry? What's going on? What is that?"

A gigantic and gruesome form erupted through the lava of blood—a thing with thick matted fur, claws, and a mass of red darting eyes—an infamous daemon of the No-Life King, the Hellhound. The hideous creature roared, crawling through the essence that contained its wickedness and maliciousness. It stretched into a defensive pose, licking its massive jaws and practically drowning in rivers of drool. Blood-red eyes peered out, two windows that were a reflection of hell itself. A flat and fat pink tongue flickered out, licking, tasting and smelling the air, and seeking for whatever or whomever to devour, any trophy to please its master.

"Fuck me!" a Nazi foot soldier cried out, eyes budging wide and dry hanging open. He raised his rifle only to disappear into an abyss of teeth. Jets of hot gushing blood erupted, drowning half of Millennium in red rain. The Hellhound feasted hungrily, snapping tendons, breaking bone, devouring muscle and organ with sickening sounds and display. After swallowing down the last bit of ragged and undisguised flesh, it peered around at other just as suitable prey. Although it was nothing drafted from a sane spiritual entity like God, natural animalistic forces drove it. It needed to need and its hungry would never be satisfied.

Sudden out of the shadows an entirely new figure emerged, dressed in armor with hot red rubies as eyes, and coated in darkness and madness. Only one individual would assume such an identity—an ageless Nosferatu, the No-Life King. However at this moment he was not an entity of flesh and blood but rather one of memory, a translucent image of shadow and ash.

A voice replied darkly, "So _war_ it is?"

The Mad-Major laughed even as his belly went into violent spasms and cheeks, rolls of double chins wobbled loosely from bone. He cried in a kingly voice, "Oh yes! Yes! It is war. Glorious bloody war. Shall you play, mad No-Life King…along with your Mistress," he paused delicately before proceeding, "the _Countess_?"

The spiritual being smiled faintly, "_We_ shall play, Major—But, the faltering of the Hellsing Seal shall be on _my_ terms, not yours."

OOO

OOO

"Fucking cockroaches blow at security…" Together like two birds of a feather Pip and Seras crowded at the door, pushing hard against them and the Iscariot agents on the other side. Even though the thick English oak, they could hear mumbling curses and demands. Pip shoved his shoulder and pressed his thigh against the smooth wood. His hand scathed the handle and held it fast. Half grunting and growling in frustration the Frenchman hissed, "But they have a knack for timing." There was a huge force, which knocked him off balance but he recovered nicely. "Son of a fucking bitch."

Seras ordered, "Put your back into it, Pip."

"I am baby," he argued.

Her eyes flashed dangerous. "Don't you call me baby."

Pip exchanged a worried glance with her and asked sadly, "Are you mad at me?"

"Yes!" she yelped at another thud came from the door.

"Is it because of the flirting with the two nuns."

"Partly…I mean I though we had something"

"We do," the Captain said.

An Irish voice cried out from the other side, "Open the door."

Exchanging a glance with the Police-Girl, Pip called out, "Sorry, we are busy. Call back later."

Seras yelped, "Give us a moment, please."

However the Paladin would not be satisfied and he bellowed, roaring like a furnace in the depths of Hell, "In the name of his Holiness, the Pope ye shall open this door."

Pip rolled his eyes. "You and him can go fuck yourself. Or each other."

The following thud was so overwhelming that the century-old woods buckled and shattered like glass, even as the Frenchman and Seras Victoria were violently cast aside like ragged useless dolls. Standing behind him with his wires taunt, rushed forward. Pip fell backwards and when he looked up he was staring at a samurai-sword, being held by a very angry Yumie. The blade hovered over his good eye. Regardless of the threat the man found in himself a joke, "Changed your mind about the threesome, sugarpie?"

Yumie's face disordered into rage and the muscles in his wrist twitched in temptation.

"Stand down" came the odious voice of the Archbishop. Enrico Maxwell stepped inside the room, dressed in his typical priestly robes and with a stern expression on his leechy face. His voice carried a tone the Hellsing had never heard before, "This rebellion is foolish. I suggest that you all play nice. All thing considering, Iscariot has been patient with you. However I seriously doubt anything will save you from this disgrace. You have violated—"

He never finished—bam! In the back of the Conference Room her eyes blazing like a winter blizzard, Integra pulled out the Glock .45, clocking the hammer and sliding off the safety, fired. The close gunshot was deafening. Iscariot, namely Anderson jumped forward but his fierce expression and murdering pose relaxed when the red-clad figure slumped against the far wall, smoking and bleeding. Like always, Alucard laughed.

He huffed, "Your welcome, Love…"

Standing on shaken limbs Integra blew aside the smoking rising from the pistol and turning towards the Archbishop she demanded, "Before any interrogations I want my cigar."

TBC

**O** Merde—I believe it is a curse word in French, either 'fuck' or 'shit.'

Sorry about Pip taking about deflowering virgins but he is nasty.

**O** The redhead in the garden is Lucy.

**O** The snake eating-itself necklace—Alucard's possession from the Covenant.

Oh snap! Okay now you know the deal with her malady but wait I shall or more importantly Alucard shall go into more detail later. Basically blood is the life, so it is the ink of the Hellsing Seal. As each Hellsing generation comes, the Blood-Bond is more potent hence the close connection, especially if they are opposite sexes. Remember 'yin and yang'. Neither can exist nor survive without the other.

The Blood-Maiden who was helping Millennium, I think you can guess who she is, if not I'll expose it to you later.

Ta,

Immortalis


	21. Weight of Malady

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing in any way, so get over it.

**Chapter Title**—_Weight of Malady_

**Rating**—PG13 to R

**Synopsis**—Iscariot arrests Integra Hellsing, Millennium moves forward for their war and Alucard comprehends the full meaning of his Master's malady.

**Author's Notes**—First of all, I must apologize to all my glorious readers that I did not finish this according to schedule. Work and school proved troublesome. Besides I had some mild computer—namely 'G-Drive' problems involving a dog, in which case I lost everything…and I mean _everything_. All my fanfictions and even some of my original works. Don't question why or how, because I think I may seriously cry again. No one is more displeased than myself. I plead for your forgiveness and patience. God, I got to finish this thing.

Ta,

Immortalis

_**Detained **_

_--Hellsing Manor_

_--Hellsing Private Library_

"Arrest her!"

"No!" Seras Victoria cried out as the agents of Iscariot descended upon Sir Integra. She made a lunge, shielding the Master of her Master from their merciless and prejudice clutches. Tears spring from her eyes even as she pleaded, "Please! You can't. You simply cannot." Iscariot, blinded by their ignorance or arrogance even, were non-sympathetic to her cries and pressed further, and closer. In a flash the Angel of Death and the Frenchman were along her side, making a wall of loyal companions and standing with their will firmly resolved. "Stop! This isn't right! Can't you see what going on? It's Millennium. Think about it. They want us to kill each other. Please! _Father Anderson_!"

"Be quiet," the Paladin hissed between his teeth. "We have our orders."

Pip snorted under his breath and rolled his good eye with contempt. He gestured with a waving gun. "What? You mean from _Archbishop Asshole_, over there."

Iscariot took in a horrid gasp and their faces disordered even more—if that was already possible—into expression of hatred. "Heathen-dog." Alexander Anderson removed a blessed blade and threatened in a low booming voice, "Stand aside or I shall slice you from where you stand."

"Like fuck you will," the Frenchman growled.

"An heathen and a demon," begun Heinkel distastefully, "how _romantic_."

Seras Victoria's glaze fell to the floor as her cheeks flushed.

Pip made a vulgar movement concerning his hand and groin area, hissing, "Blow me, bitch. Or better yet, yourself dike."

"_Enough_…"the Hellsing-Daughter breathed. Integra stood her feet, returning as always to her stoic and unyielding gesture of authority or perhaps, English pride. Her eyes flashed dangerously and her hair gleamed like silver in the moonlight shinning brightly through the panel window. All together it gave her mystic, if not angelic appearance. "That's enough. Lieutenant Victoria, step down."

Seras opened her mouth to protest, "But sir…"

"I said step down. Are you not bound to my orders?" Integra asked sternly.

"I am…"

She warned, "Captain Bernadette…"

Pip pouted like some child and pleaded, "Just one bullet, _please_. And I know where to aim it." The barrel was perfectly trained between Anderson's eyes, who glared and leered violently.

Integra stumbled forward. "I said 'ease and desist.'"

Pip threw his hands up and exclaimed, "Shitfuck! Things were starting to get good. " He continued to grumbled indistinctly, "Me, I hate London…old fashion cocksuckers…horrible weather…paychecks…"

"My cigar Maxwell," Integra demanded.

The Archbishop smiled and purred, "All in good time Miss—Director. Shall we…" In a flash of cloaks Iscariot and the Hellsing-Daughter were gone.

OOO

OOO

Despite the ruthless encouragement from her sire, Alucard—Seras Victoria wipe away the clear 'human' tears from her cheeks, instead of the blood streaks a typical vampire would shed. Lesson 8 as Lord Alucard said, "A Nosferatu, a vampire shall not cry." According to him, _crying_ was a pathetic, feeble sentimental that human exercise quite often. There was never a circumstance worthy enough to find an excuse to cry for him. Never. Not only were they increasingly complicated, but also humans were emotional.

This of course, was total bollocks to the Police Girl. Crying was not a weakness—but instead, _just human_.

Alucard was human…_once_. And perhaps that was all he hated it.

Now that was pathetic.

"Fuck these assholes," Pip declared. "I got enough C-4 to blow them back to the crusades."

After what seemed like hours the Angel of Death spoke, "What a charming proposition, Captain," his voice carried a trace of banter but otherwise Walter, always managed to keep his cool, calm professionalism—Expect, of course when slicing vampires into bite-able chunks with those wires of his. Then, he was a manic! "However, I would like to avoid all violent conformation with Iscariot until absolutely necessary."

"So we wait. I hate waiting. I like—no," hew corrected himself, "I _love_ the old fashion way. My granddaddy's way of getting the job done." As he spoke Pip fished into his pockets and pulled out a half-emptied carton of cigarettes. He smacked the pack against his free hand until one white roll of tobacco rolled out, practically begging to be smoked dry before the others. "Granddaddy got things done."

Walter was well aquatinted with his history; after all, he recruited Pip Bernadette and the Wild Geese. Wiping the crust from his eye he asked, "I trust your Grandfather retired."

"Sure!" he quirked playfully. "Six feet under is a retirement."

"Ah…" he exclaimed.

Taking in a deep puff of smoke he explained further, "Whole family been mercenaries for eight generations. It puts bread on the table and clothes on our backs. We'll do just about anything for money. Besides, it sort of a commitment to die in duty. My own Pop was killed in Colombia. Personal…If I die, than I die. I can tell you this—I am going to go out with a gun in my hand and a smile on my face…and if not, than old age might be nice." Reaching into the other pocket, Pip removed a switchback knife and started to pick his nails with it, as if it was a causal thing to do. "To which ever comes…"

A smile twitched on Walter's lips, as he noted, "Weren't you frisked, Captain?"

Pip flashed a wicked grin and his one golden-olive eye gleamed with mischief. He exchanged a glance over his shoulder, peering at Seras Victoria and answered more towards her than the Butler, "I may have a fancy for cute girls…but not all of my flirting is pleasure. Some is strictly business. I have discovered that Iscariot chicks are not fond of frisking a man—_especially _he makes comments about them trying to grope his nut-snack." He held up a point in deep thought and continued, "First thing—I never surrender my cigs. I never go completely unarmed." The Frenchman took a brass knuckle, a grenade and a palm size handgun from his pockets and down his pants. With a large grin he displayed his glorious items on the table. "So in reality…I was not properly frisked."

"Brilliant Captain. How witty of you," Walter commented, much amused.

He laughed openly and loudly, "Brilliant? Not brilliant, but genius!"

Seras blinked away the drying tears and approached them—what Alucard referred as her 'Two Suitors'—with growing interest and then amusement. She reached out to examine the objects but remembering what location he hid them in made her think twice. Gagging, she wiped her hands. The brass knuckles were engraved with one letter on each bulge…B-I-T-E, and of course the second word spelled…T-H-I-S. _Bite This. _Interesting. It certainly gave a new meaning to a 'knuckle sandwich.' Seras exclaimed, "I cannot believe that you manage to stuff of this down your pants."

"There wasn't a lot of room down there. I had to improvise." Pip added, "And the Paladin…is not the tough shit everyone makes him out to me. Regenerator? Nothing a swift kick in the balls couldn't do. You should not seen him. It was hilarious. That Heinkel was not happy about that." Laughing he slapped his knee and pinched his sinuses, feeling the ghost tears coming. "Besides a grown man never likes to feel up another man's groin."

The Police Girl huffed a short laugh and exclaimed, "Aha! I knew that wasn't all you _down there_. You stuffing your boxers is hilarious! Poor Frenchie…"

Like any man whose '_Precious_' were violated by comments of 'lack thereof', Pip did what any man would do—he defended himself, "Hey! Trust me, it is big enough and it works very, _very well_. It makes me happy that you were looking, Seras."

Seras threw her hand up, scoffing "I cannot believe we are discussing this. I mean I figured you would do just about anything for money. All for money."

"That I resent."

"You just said that a minute ago."

Pip fired back, "Like a _woman_, you misunderstood me."

"You sexist pig. Care to elaborate?"

"With pleasure, _mi Cherie_. Money isn't _the _thing to fight for." A pause followed as Pip flicked his bangs out of his good and only eye. "There's out of things worth fighting for—for aggression, for the homeland, for family, for women, for children, for narcotics, for food, for lots of things…But, I never would have pegged 'killing vampires' for the list."

"You will find that I Hellsing Organization is filled with surprises," Walter said.

"Like Alucard's sex change," Pip joked in a low voice.

Seras blinked. "What?"

Walter laugh and then his face returned stoic as he noted, "Speaking of Alucard. Wherever did he go?"

A voice called out, "Down here." Together, simultaneously like a three stooges, Pip, Seras and Walter peered over the edge of the table and saw Alucard, the No-Life King in a position less suited for a noble vampire. He was lying on his back, feet crossed and staring bleakly at the ceiling. There was a new expression on his face, a look of revelation. "How curious…"

"Master!" Seras cried as she rushed to his side. "Are you alright?"

"That hurt more than I originally expected," Alucard winced as he fingered the gaping bullet hole.

"Master…"

The No-Life King smiled through his wheezes and said low, "No fear my childe." Causally as if the action was common-some he glanced down at the sigils of the Hellsing Seal. No fractures. Nothing. "Everything is in order."

But the secret and better yet, the origin to Integra's secret malady had been revealed to him. **O**

OOO

OOO

_**The Malady **_

OOO

Above, tens of thousands of feet in the air, the Grafzeppellin II flew through the orange and yellow sky, and even between the seemingly opaque clouds like a knife slicing through butter. The war-craft hummed along its way, undisturbed by the passing flocks of seagulls and not intimidated by the darkening threats of an approaching storm on the horizon. No, instead it forcefully faced nature as if smiling in the face of death itself. And yes of course, that insane Major laughed at the concept of anything standing in his way. Sure enough, nations, its leaders and its people would stand in his path, only to be crushed and left behind as bloody stains in Millennium's wake. It might be considered a noble or even brave attempt at heroism, but a pathetic and vain one at best.

War was coming.

The Blood-Maiden knew this too well.

Draped in shadows she stood meekly, and completely lost in redundant thoughts, as she stared at the chalk and blood engravings of the Hellsing-Seal. For the first time since her training and, mastering in the Dark-Arts, she had failed. Such an event seemed impossible for her. Failure! What terrible shame for the likes of her, and The Covenant. But why? _Why?_ A frustrated hiss escaped from her throat, rumbling deep like a furnace as she pondered the fall of her pride and questioning of her skill.

She heard the Major speak through his fat lips, "Ah…what a beautiful display. This is what I love, someone who dances on the brim of sanity and madness. I am intrigued. Positively elastic with joy and anticipation! This war will change the world… " The Major bowed his head as if caught in prayer. Flashing a row of tiny white teeth he added, "Excellent…"

_Stupid man_, she thought. _Fool of war._

The Doc adjusted his glasses and replied meekly, "Ja, of course."

Couching down, she examined the design close and personal. Her eyes fluttered in eager anticipation and desperation to discover the fault in her perfectly feasible plan. It could be done—the Hellsing Seal would break…_But yet_, something had gone wrong. Her calculations were ideal, the ingredients present and she was the Mistress of the Dreamworld, so the talent was there. So, what had happened? Her deathly pale features were an inch from the concrete floor as she breathed in its scent, and there was the sickening aroma of coppery-blood and _betrayal_. Her fiery eyes snapped open, even as she could smell the deception. Perhaps it was not the failure and shame that appalled her, but instead, the treachery of it. This was the unkindest cut of all, the deceit and manipulation from _Him_. It was _his_ doing.

The No-Life King, Alucard.

"It is he," she leered in absolute disgust. Growling like a mad-beast, dark burgundy nails ranked the air and she cursed in her native tongue. "Him." It was unpleasant to be betrayed by one of her own kind, a vampire who had sat at The Covenant as a ruling Master and True Undead. And to rub salt in the wound, to be exchanged for a human-woman—that whoring bitch Integra Hellsing.

"And do you think my Captain?" quirked the fat man playfully.

As always, the Captain did not say a word and he would not. A Lycan, a werewolf was a strange creature. Most were just mindless animals, who would bathed in the moonlight, feed gluttonously and howled without rhyme or meaning. Not this one. He was not deaf or dumb. _No_, she thought, _there is cleverness and sense in those golden eyes_. It was a humble ruse. If he ever spoke, something dire would have to spark the nerve to supply his tongue and vocal cords. Rumors among those fabricated Midans said that his words were solely for his lady, the Huntress—Rip Van Wrinkle. _But _if so, she never said.

Schrodinger exchanged a glance with the Doc and shrugged his shoulders, apparently bored or uninterested with the typical silent gesture from his werewolf mentor. The cat-boy twitched his ears and quirked, "I think it's time to meet them, Major."

"Schrodinger…" the man in the lab-coat warned.

"All in good time. Be patient." The Major paused and added, "Things have taken an unexpected twist. As the No-Life King said—"So _war_ it is?" So shall it be. War is coming, a war to which to change the world." He paused to look at her. "Shall you join in this beautiful war, Baroness?"

"No doubt you were enjoying that hideous display by _him_…you—" The Doc paused before adding some insult or undesirable entitlement. "You would betray Millennium."

"No more than you would to I." Deep within the shadows, Carmilla—the Bloody Baroness, Queen of Illusions peered over her creamy shoulder and smiled, softly laughing at his innate foolishness. _Yes she did_. She laughed, despite the brutal carnage that spelled out before all of Millennium. Even now, the new-bred Midan-Freaks were alarmingly quiet with wide fearful eyes and tease shoulders. In fact several had soiled themselves; after all, the sight of a Hellhound gorging itself on their comrades was hardly appealing and stimulating towards self-esteem. It was an exquisite exhibit of bloodshed, and the No-Life King did have a unique style when it came to murder and chaos.

Still her laughter carried on, echoing off the steel and armor-plating walls. The blood of the dead decorated her robe, darkening the color, which could be the reason for her mood but then again, perhaps it was the irony of what had just played before them. Millennium wanted to play chess with the devil and would lose their souls. It was amusing. Prophetic words slipped from her lips, '_We are leeches, and your blood sickens our bellies/ We have had our fill and now depart from you to find sweeter souls'_." **O**

The Major mused, "A verse from the Black Veil."

"Rather suitable considering the situation, "Schrodinger noted.

"_Blood is the life, as water to the flower_." Carmilla paused and again, reviewed her findings. Everything was going smoothly until he disapproved, but why had he? He was a slave, a domesticated pet to the Hellsing Family, who hunted his own. Although yes, they might have been pretenders and frauds, but now, Alucard seemed almost willingly to do so. Perhaps, years being with humans, their weaknesses and sentiments had rubbed off him. But here at the possible moment to seek revenge on them, on the last descendent of Abraham Van Hellsing, he refused. Why? "_But, the faltering of the Hellsing Seal shall be on my terms, not yours_," he had said.

"Blood is the life," she whispered as a thought came to her. "It is the currency of the soul." Turning on her heel Carmilla faced the crafted Seal. It was _here_.

"My Lady…" the Major tried to regain her attention, "_Baroness_."

She whispered to herself, "The Hellsing-Seal stands unbroken. I have done nothing but a ripple in a stream and now, the waters are clam. A loose thread in the sheet, if you will. The No-Life is enslaved, almost _willingly_."

The Doc stepped forward and demanded, "Whatever are you saying, woman?"

Alucard had refused, and even before he was not apt to assistance, not even with Van Hellsing. So why would this be any different? He wanted the pride of breaking the chains that held, and enslaved for an over a century. "As he said, 'It shall be on _my_ terms,' hence," she paused and the prophetic words rolled off her tongue, "_For the craft used shall be turned against the Master/ Same as the childe feeds upon its sire_." **O**

Relatively speaking, Integra Hellsing was the Master, and Alucard was the childe, the slave. He would feed upon her to gain his release, not only from the bonds but also from the connection to his Master. Virgin, or not he would drink from her but he seemed reluctant. It was simple—she was human and it was his instinct to feed. "Damnation!"

It was useless he was so stubborn. Then again, so was she. Despite the difference in species, they were both surprisingly _similar_.

_And there it was!_

For Abraham Van Hellsing to enslave an immortal there had to be more than a sigil, a few Catholic **O** prayers and blood. No. _How ironic_, she thought. They are bonded but in more than one-way. The ink of the Seal is Hellsing Blood but to recruit the devil in your ranks has its consequences.

"Using your Inner Eye, Carmilla? Yes?" the Major asked with even more eagerness.

"_Use me, abuse me, craft me and hence fall into my blackness_. _A willing victim, an eternal slave." _The Blood Maiden took a remaining blood-vial of the No-Life King and other that of Sir Integra, she pour both, each a pile an foot from each other. The coppery smell saturated the air like some sweet perfume, and they smelled alike. Human blood has a distinct smelt and it was somewhat lacking. Like before in the attempt to fracture the Hellsing Seal the miniature pools of blood shifted like individual beings with like minds. Within seconds the two pools became one. "_Bound by blood and bound by life. So alike are you and I…Shall we dance, shall we breed, breathe and bleed_."" **O **

A grin twitched playfully on her lips. It was almost as if she had discovered some terrible secret.

The Doc rolled his eyes and demanded, "Speak plainly."

Finally she finished, "_We are falling…falling but not yet broken_." **O**

"You are gabbling nonsense!"

Carmilla lifted her eyes towards the Major and her voice was sharp of obsidian, "Let this war begin…Be assured Major, you shall hear the orchestra of war."

The threat was obvious enough but the Major was too overjoyed with the prospect of coming war that he forgot about it. He clapped his hands together, grinning and giggling like some insane spoiled child. "Good! This is what I want…" a hum of pleasure followed. "War…chaos…murder and of course, death. Order 666 shall resume forward until the climax."

"I doubt that…" she cooed with delicious wickedness as she peered intently at the vital of remaining blood.

The fat insane Nazi frowned and asked, "Whatever do you mean, Baroness?"

"Pride is a sin, _child_. It shall be your untimely fall…at the hands of a _virgin_…an Artemis **O** incarnated." It was frightening that the Baroness was not only the crafter of illusions, but also the foreseer of vision, namely of the future. The gift was not hers by birth. No, it was not. The Third-Sight was a 'borrowed' instrument—but _stolen_ would be the more appropriate term—that she manipulated it for her own twisted, dark purpose. While her smile was a friendly sight, her heart was foul and black as an endless abyss. A powerful and threatening gift if mastered by the spiteful, deceitful and unfeeling. The images were like tricky creatures. Endless riddles—but some things were perfectly seen. And now, the Baroness stood over the main bridge and saw the world below as much as the images dancing inside her mind.

Yes indeed, what a glorious war it would be.

TBC

Immortalis

**O**—_But the secret and better yet, the origin to Integra's secret malady had been revealed to him _**O**—more revealed in the next chapter.

**O**—_We are leeches, and your blood sickens our bellies/ We have had our fill and now depart from you to find sweeter souls'_." **O**—I don't know why but for some reason I felt prophetic in this chapter, and I like to use the Black Veil as a reference for coming events. Vampires are parasites. This line is quite simple, "I have had my fill and now I go to someone else."

**O**— _For the craft used shall be turned against the Master/ Same as the childe feeds upon its sire_. **O**—like I said in the following chapter, Integra is the Master and Alucard the childe. Remember in the amine and Hellsing OVA 1, when Alucard tried to get Seras to feed on his blood so she could be free? Same principle. But to be completely free Integra must be thoroughly drained and dry, something the Hellsing Seal will never permitted. Alucard is basically screwed. Ha!

**O**-- Abraham Van Hellsing **O**—I figured he was Catholic, but when he enslaved Alucard the church dismissed him.

**O**—_Bound by blood and bound by life. So alike are you and I…Shall we dance, shall we breed, breathe and bleed_ **O**—Integra and Alucard are bound in an endless cycle of love and hate.

**O**—_We are falling…falling but not yet broken _**O**—same quote Alucard used in Somniator.

**O**—Artemis incarnated **O**—Integra Hellsing.

Thank you so much for your patience. College is a total bitch right now. One more week and then finals!! I need to finish this thing. So, what's next…Alucard creates a dreamscape so he can commune with an enemy, Abraham Van Hellsing. Iscariot interrogates Integra, and Maxwell has the most intriguing and unexpected proposal.


	22. Dreamscape

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing in any way. 

**Chapter Title**—_Dreamscape_

**Rating**—PG13 to R

**Synopsis**—The origins of her malady is revealed… 

**Author's Notes**—First of all, I must thank everyone for their reviews. It really puts a smile on my face. This might be the shortest chapter but trust the next one will make it up. 

Ta,

Immortalis 

OOO

OOO

Dreamscapes are tricky creatures. The practice itself is delicate process, in which the elements are constantly changing and without proper balance, the consequences are direr. Yes, only a selective few have the ability to craft such things from their own thoughts, and memories—otherwise its victims must be drawn up from a lotto of collected souls. And the chances are slim to require your other half. 

Staring again at the Hellsing Seal that bestowed his gloves—it was constant reminder of his enslavement, but now _willingly _servitude—Alucard knew this. Demon and Angels were experts in such talents, but even secrets are not silent and noticeable. They tend to slip out from teeth. Humans do not, or cannot exercise a Dreamscape. True, they dream but not in a controlled stance. No, it was hopelessly random and an accidental assortment of their weak experiences, thoughts and visions. Whispers spoke of a blind seer **O**, a human with such gifts enough to shame even the Queen of Illusion herself, Carmilla. 

Others would say that she was as rare as butterfly in an artic storm, and might as well be a figment of imagination and spun from ageless myth—what a well-manufactured lie. _She_ was The Covenant's most treasured possession, next to their Blood Concubines and Familiars. 

But returning to Dreamscapes, Alucard remained reclined on his Master's chair in the Conference Room otherwise reserved for the Royal Knights. Sitting her vacant presence, his nostrils flared at the lingers of her scent—cigar smoke, lavender and of course, virginity. _Ah, my Master,_ he thought. As always, there was a lingering smell that he recognized but could never place. Now, he knew. And now Millennium had made their move, their feeble attempt at breaking the Hellsing Seal. What silly idiots! _And Carmilla_, he smiled. The Bloody Baroness, she must be terribly displeased with him. Like before when they shared a bed, she had served her purpose in teaching him the secret of shades, the craft of the Dreamworld and now disposed…until next time. 

_Millennium_, he scoffed. If it had been that simple, he would have feasted on Abraham Van Hellsing's very flesh. 

His eyes snapped open at the memory of that _man_. 

Closing his eyes the Dreamscape had been crafted.

OOO

OOO

--London, England 

--1898 AD

London _was_ beautiful. 

The history was intriguing. She had seen so much during her existence, of war and terror and despair—inhabited by the Celtic tribes, conquered by imperial Rome, diminished to ash by Boadicea, abandoned to the cruel Saxons, decimated by the raging Black Death, erased by the Great Fire, shattered yet again by Hermann Goring's Luftwaffe. London, it seemed was forever rising and falling. Rising and falling. She had fallen again, and yet to some unseen foe other than plague or war. 

There was something so ageless in the land, better known to his original inhabitants—_Britannia_. 

Despite this vast landscape, the Dreamworld crafted only one building in the mist of the grassy plane and beside the Thames River—Carfax Abbey. Inside this ruin a single glow came from an occupied room, and silhouetted the long figure sitting in a chair. The room was bare save but shattered papers littering the stone floor. Candles danced seductively in their light. 

Beside the man, there was a long skinny box and inside thick, fat leeches wiggled inside their personal prisons of glass. Dripping his hands into a basin of fresh clean water, he washed them and tried them vigorously—almost trying to cleanse himself of the coming deed. A exhale escaped him. Looking up his eyes met his own reflection, sitting across from him. His cold cerulean eyes studied himself—the disheveled dirty-blond hair, light bread, square jaw, board shoulders underneath an old ratted, red trench coat and the fierce expression of determine on his fine, aged face.

A Catholic prayer whispered hopelessly from his lips, "Mea culpa, kyrie eleison." (**O **My fault, Lord have mercy **O)** With a spark of courage he reached inside and pulled a leech out. Pinning the worm down he plunged a syringe into its gorged belly, and withdrew blood. The leech had served its short purpose and was discarded into the fire, bursting into a shadow of sparks with a shrill of terror. 

Rolling up his sleeve revealed a roadmap of needle marks, some fresh and others years old. Inhaling sharply he shoved the syringe into a vein and at once his eyes rolled madly into his skull, as ageless visions of battles, lost lovers and revenge swathed his mind. _Then it was done_ and the man lowered the syringe and stared yet again, at his reflection. 

A voice hissed behind him, "_Abraham Van Hellsing_."

At the sound of his name Abraham lifted his eyes and stared at the visitor, the maker of this Dreamscape—Alucard.

"Beaten by your own reflection…or your conscience, perhaps?"

The No-Life King was dressed Victorian style with a top hat, red silk ascot fixed tightly at his pale throat, white starched shirt, pressed slacks, gray vest and a cloak to shroud himself from the cold and cruel England weather. Of course, his sunglasses were in place and his eyes glittered like rubies. He removed them and the cape, setting them aside on the wooden table. Next, the hat followed. Alucard approached and out of his mind's eye, a heavily cushioned chair materialized from the mist. 

The cosmic place was not yet completed, and so he had to improvise. 

"I am no saint," he replied roughly. 

"No, of course not. I would expect nothing less." Swathed in the glow of the fireplace he sat down with the graces of a cat, crossed his legs and entwined his fingers, scooping them under his chin. "Abraham Van Hellsing…" he added reluctantly, "_my Master_." 

Abraham frowned and asked, "What has inspired you to grace me with your presence, Nosferatu? None of this is real. This is _your_ Dreamscape, _not mine_."

"_Questions and answers_," Alucard demanded evenly.

Abraham smiled, suppressing a laugh, as he drowned down the remains of a scotch and whiskey—not that it mattered, none of this was actually real. "And you think my _memory_ will tell you?" 

The Count shrugged his shoulders impassively. "You neither will, or you won't." 

He leaned over and peered into the box. Curious he reached in and held up a leech. Touching it Alucard felt his own blood hum against his skin. It practically sang to him, beckoning and whispering to him. The vile creature wiggled and struggled against his grip, its mouth sucking greedy through the glove. "So…how terribly intriguing, old _friend_." Snarling, his fist enclosed and the thing gave a protesting squeal before it burst into a bloody lump in his hand. "You congratulate yourself, Abraham Van Hellsing…that you enslaved an Immortal to your _mortal _blood line. Your personal Devil, lapping to your beckoning call, eh?"

The Hunter smirked doubtfully and replied grimly, "You said yourself that there is no such thing as immortality."

"That I did." He mused indifferently. "Blood is the life, the very essence of the soul, you _know_ this."

Abraham nodded. 

"You fool," he hissed. "I know the consequence of your _experiment_. Your unholy addiction has corrupted your bloodline, your," Alucard hissed, "_Heirs_, and _my _Master." 

Beats of silence followed. 

"You took my life, my blood and, " he added with deliberately added with relish, "_passed_ it to another." 

Ah…to _Her_, to Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. 

"It is _my_ blood in her veins." 

Alucard frowned, since it was relatively impossible. Otherwise Abraham and all those who followed the bloodline would be changed. Then it dawned on him. No not spoiled. He studied the bloody remains in his hand. No, the leeches had served their purpose well as filters. _Just blood_…

"Just perfect." She herself and the rest of her kin were not tainted with the poisons of vampirism—but instead, perfected through the passing generations of the Hellsing Family. Just enough blood to seal the Blood-Debt. Integra had his blood, as much as he had hers. It was a perfect equilibrium, and the ultimate union between souls. Here was the origin of her malady, this sickness invading her body and consequently, her mind. 

"I know the extend of your craft, Abraham. There was always something in your children—some scent I knew. It was _my own_. I remember Edward, don't you? He was his own sire, wasn't he? **O**"

Abraham, proud and unyielding did not acknowledge his presence, much less his question.

"And now here is the turn of the tide." 

Now things had changed to his benefit and time was the catalyst. Before, the feedings had been a rare event. At first with Abraham Van Hellsing it was once every decade, then once a year, twice a year and now, with Integra F. W. Hellsing it was every other month. The evidence was clear…there was less and less blood to barter with. 

Again, no answer from his Master. 

Alucard demanded harshly, "Than why? _Why_ Abraham?"

His dead master looked up, and cerulean-blue eyes met red-rubies. Abraham crossed his arms and his fingers fidgeted with the silver pin that would pass to Sir Integra but only a hundred years in the future. The man exhaled a tired sigh and his shoulders stumped at the action. He pulled his glaze away and stared out the window. At once the Dreamworld materialized the remains of late 1800 London—the setting sun, the grassy hills and the Thames River, the water rippling against the soft breeze. 

Beautiful _Britannia_ in all her ageless glory. 

"Perhaps," he started, "old Count I was fueled by pity, but above all…_hope_." 

"What fickle emotions you humans have," he snorted. 

Abraham passed him a disproval glance and reminded, "You were human _once_."

"A lifetime ago."

"Ashes and diamond—or 'human and vampire'…we are all _equal_ in the end." He paused and continued grimly, "We surround ourselves with the specters of our past, and their shadows define us… They are our dreams, and equally as often create our obstacles…They house our heroes, as entirely hide our demons…True shadows are darkness itself…They are the void where monsters dwell…And deep in their abyss lies our salvation…" **O**

Alucard noted, "So…fight evil with evil."

For the first time Abraham Van Hellsing smiled. "Precisely, my No-Life King." 

OOO

OOO

The Hellsing-Daughter did not struggle as Heinkel Wolfe and Paladin Anderson seized her, guided her towards the Library and forcefully sat her in that hideous and uncomfortable chair, compliments of the Iscariot Agency. After that, they proceeded to lock her wrists and ankles in ageless chains that no doubt dated back to the Medieval-Age, where the Vatican and their Pope ruled the known world with an iron hand and seer will. God only knows what the metal locks and links had seen, and what confession screamed from their victims. 

As Iscariot fastened her captive, Father Renaldo after surviving his unfortunate slippage with some bad tea was reading her the charge, "Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing, Director of the Hellsing Organization and removed knight of the Royal Order of _Protestant _Knights, "he leered the titled as if it was offensive to his senses, "are hereby accused of treason to the British crown…"—Naturally it was a long list and did continue for half a minute—"Iscariot finds you in violation of the Royal Inquisition. The Hellsing Organization, its Director and its inhabitants shall submit to Vatican authority. You shall hence be interrogated over…the issues considered 'highest priority' by her Majesty, the Queen of England and his Holiness, the Pope."

A pause as the final blow settled in. 

"Do you understand the charges before you? Remember anything you say from here forth shall used for or against your salivation."

She answered, "Yes of course."

Closing the door and bolting it shut Maxwell inhaled deeply, savoring the sight of her, this Protestant-Maiden. "You know," Maxwell begun slowly as he paced, twirling the keys with subtle glee, "as much as it does entertain me to see you caged and helpless in the face of God, there remains, even yet, another way." 

"And I can imagine that you are ever so eager to inform me."

"You are obligated to me, Integra. You have violated the Royal Inquisition and therefore you and this pitiful clubhouse are under _my_ jurisdiction. Although I am not surprised by your sudden act of disobedience, I am however, _disappointed_. This is not the time for this." Maxwell paused, taking a seat. "By the way, wherever did you acquire that appalling Frenchman, Captain Bernadette?"

"Why? Was he giving you some trouble?"

"Other than invading on privacy and business? His language is terrible foul…"

Integra shrugged her shoulder impassively. It was comforting to know that she paid good money for damn excellent service. Mercenaries yes, but loyal to the bone—

along with the checkbook. "Walter C. Dornez recruited the Wild Geese after the Valentine Brother invasion."

"By your orders?"

"Naturally."

"On the phone I defended you and your noble intentions to his Holiness—which was a practice I shall never repeat again. Imagine if you will—me, a Catholic Archbishop supporting a heretic Protestant girl. Scandalous! Any other circumstance I would be boiled in tar—however…" Shifting in his chair he abruptly shoot up to his feet and ambled towards the wall of books. He paced, nibbling on his thumbnail, which was a habit that the Head-Mother smacked out of him. Even now his hands cramped at the sight of a ruler. However, now it was ironic that almost fifteen years later, Enrico Maxwell had returned back to this tendency. Suddenly he did not care. Nothing mattered but the situation at hand. He inhaled sharply before continuing, "There are more pressing matters to entertain. Things…are _changing_."

Integra smirked doubtfully at him.

Ripping off another layer of nail Maxwell heaved a sigh and exclaimed, "Iscariot."

The agents of Section XIII leaped forward and stood to attention. Smiles stretched on their face, since perhaps torture might be involved in the interrogation. _Idiotic sods!_ Hatred and intolerance had blinded their senses from the task at hand. Nothing should distract them that Integra Hellsing—Protestant heretic or not—proved better alive than dead. And a worthy _ally_, if need be.

Maxwell ordered briskly, "Leave us."

At once Father Renaldo protested openly, "Maxwell! I would not encourage that."

"Nor I," Anderson followed. 

"Ja!" Heinkel stepped forward. "This snake has a vicious bite."

"I said leave."

Maxwell closed the door but not before Anderson replied, "Give a cry if her tongue needs loosen." 

He smirked and said low, "I think I can handle the Protestant."

"But sir!" the protests started again, but nothing would turn the Archbishop's ear any other way. 

TBC

Author's Notes

The Blind Seer **O**—I recently had a dream about a girl-child who had the gift or curse of the Inner-Eye, but as consequence she was blind. Apparently, 'there could only be one.' Ha, like Highlander. 

It gets better. The next night, Hellsing visited my sleep. In the dream Integra and Alucard were invited, but _ordered_ would be the more suitable term—but moving on—they went to the opera. Guess who they meet with…_Iscariot._ Just great! Oh, it gets better. Then they bump into Carmilla who is dressed to kill. Anderson wants to chop her head off but that would cause too much attention and bad press. So she leaves saying, "I am here to witness my childe give her last performance. She is retiring. It is so sad. Her voice is a siren. Such a pretty thing." 

So the performance begins. It is mournful sound—E. Nomine the second version of Vater User. The singer is a girl, swathed in a black veil and she acts with such realism that the whole opera house erupts into tears and applause. Integra tells Maxwell, "If you so desire, go kill the Baroness. I have a previous engagement to grant." Alucard leaves with her with an I-am-going-to-get-me-some. I guess in the dream, Integra took a lover. Geez, I wonder who that might be? 

Anyways, a message arrives for the Paladin from the singer who turns out to be the Blind Seer. She informs him that a 'man of Celts' would come and says, "My time is done. Another must come as always. A girl-child." She charges Anderson with the duty of finding the next Seer, a girl name Rose who has paid the price for the Inner-Eye—her every touch is the plague. 

Of course, Anderson is skeptical and curses that she a demon. She merely says, "I am as my Father made me," as she leaves, "And now I go to him. To home." At the last scene Anderson is carrying a sleeping girl with blond pigtails in his robe, and she is holding a wilting rose. 

Anybody want me to write this thing? You have to let me know. The Blind Seer is not an original character of mine, so it won't be a crossover. I have to get enough replies if I write it. 

Edward **O**---Abraham's first son before Lionel. 

We surround ourselves with the specters of our past, and their shadows define us… They are our dreams, and equally as often create our obstacles…They house our heroes, as entirely hide our demons…True shadows are darkness itself…They are the void where monsters dwell…And deep in their abyss lies our salvation…**O**—Comes from the USA Internet Trailer for OVA 2. 

About the Dreamworld—No, Alucard did not go back in time. 


	23. Iscariot's Deal

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing in any way, so get over it.

**Chapter Title**—_Iscariot _ 

**Rating**—PG13 to R

**Synopsis**—The Iscariot-Director offers Integra a proposition.

**Author's Notes**—So close to getting finished!

Ta,

Immortalis

**_Comrades _**

_--Hellsing Library _

_--4:12am_

**OOO**

Exhaling sharply, Maxwell glanced over his shoulder before couching down and unlocking the chains. He was surprisingly gentle, careful not to scrape her wrists or ankles; however his fingers lingered a moment too long, but enough to arise suspicions but certainly enough to noticed it. Refusing to catch her eye he reached into his pocket, drew out a Roux cigar and her gold lighter and then discreetly slid them on the arm of the chair, leaving them to her will and whim. "A cigar before interrogation, I believe was your request," Maxwell replied plainly.

The Hellsing-Daughter eyed the items cautiously.

Maxwell turned away and rearranged the Iscariot documents on the nearby desk, constantly shifting and piling them into their appropriate clusters. This was the moment, which hopefully all questions would be answered and worries confronted.

Integra flicked the lighter open with a sharp flick of the wrist, which was a skill that she had perfected with much practice, and then watched with dazed eyes as the cigar end smolder. Thick swirls of smoked danced in the air between them. She inhaled deeply, blowing smoke from her nostrils that only gave her the vague impression of a dragon. "How insatiably curious, Maxwell. Like a babe to its mother's beast, I never thought you would depart from your," she paused for effect and then added, "_precious_ comrades," Integra noted.

"We do not need our pets, Miss Integra. This is a civilized conservation, so no need to be hostile."

She glanced around, observing the ageless leather-bound books and taking in the old smell of their history and for a moment time seemed insufficient. No doubt, they would be here long after she was dead and buried. Books could be considered immortal, if they weren't subject to the elements of age and flame. What a shame.

"Are you comfortable, _Sir Hellsing_?"

The concern in his voice sounded genuine enough. Integra blinked. A smirk tugged at her lips as she mocked, "How noble of Iscariot. I am truly touched." She forced herself to stare into the emerald-stone eyes of Enrico Maxwell. "Coming to my rescue. Inquiring about my comfort. " A paused followed. "Is chivalry practiced by all Judas-Priests, or is this your personal method of protecting me, _Enrico_?"

Maxwell exhaled frustration and leered, "You falter yourself, _Integra_." Curling his lip, the Director crossed his arms and relaxed his tease shoulders. A free strand of hair dangled between his eyes, almost bragging about its escape from his sleek ponytail. He flicked it aside, tucking it behind his ear and returned his attention to Sir Integra. "Just oaths of chastity and poverty. Terribly sorry to disappoint you."

A smiled twitched on her lips. "Disappointed?" she quirked. "I am not disappointed but relieved."

His cheeks brightened. "There is a matter to which I would like to discuss. His Holiness—"

She interrupted, "You forget, I do not answer to _him_. Nor shall I ever."

"Ah…" he cooed with relish, "but you do answer to her Majesty…correct?"

"I am not even going to answer that senile question," Integra snapped with a blow of smoke.

"Very well." Maxwell raised his hands in the air. "Very well. I am not here primarily by orders of the Pope, but _also_, from her Majesty the Queen and the Royal Order of Protestant Knights."

Integra exhaled roughly. "Tell me of something that I do not know. We both know that this inquisition is not about the Tower of London. So shall you stop this pathetic and ever so childish charade and express the true Inquisition Order. Whatever are the main objectives at hand, Archbishop?"

Finally Maxwell smiled. "Alas, some brutal English frankness…"

"_Humor me_," Integra hissed, obliviously still waiting.

No man, save but Alucard simply loved that ferocious spark in her eyes; however, even now Enrico Maxwell started to admire it. There was something so intriguing about it, so alluring like some intoxicating drug or aroma. "As the Lady wishes…I shall quench your demand. Iscariot targets to…preserve your life…avoiding Millennium and—" 

She prompted, "And…"

"The Hellsing Seal."

A short laugh followed. "Of course, of course."

Silence followed.

Her eyes flashed opened and taking another drag, pointed and accusing finger at him. "If you think I shall be incline to indulge your curiosity—regardless of Royal degree, you are seriously mistaken. I am not a pawn. You _knew_ of Millennium."

Maxwell smiled, he simply had to. "Yes…_We_ did."

Another flow of silenced followed.

The Archbishop pulled up a chair and turning it around, sat in it with his elbows on the back. "I know about your private little investigation, Miss Integra. At first, you were discreet and modest, but your insolence and arrogance exposed you. It was terribly amusing to watch you scramble around for answers. The look on your face was _exquisite_, really." Maxwell laughed. " I would have been happy to entertain your curiosity," he added, "_If_ you had asked."

Integra gritted her teeth together. "Some how, I seriously doubt that."

Currently she was trending on dangerous and even consequential turf and Integra knew it; but her desperation surged through her like electrical charge. Section XIII had existed long before her grandfather, Abraham Van Hellsing created his society and she had exhausted her efforts through her forefathers' keepsakes. In the Hellsing Manor there was hardly anything about the shadowed organization, known as Millennium. Supposedly young Walter, nicknamed the Angel of Death and a feminine entity of Alucard, destroyed them. That was more than fifty years ago, and yet, against the odds they flourished, continuing to plot their war and possibly her demise—not once and not twice, but three times. 

It was personal.

He turned sharply to her and demanded, "Ask me."

She blinked. "I am not going to entertain your massive ego," she scoffed harshly.

"Just _ask_ me." He waited, but she refused to indulge him. "Oh—the good old silent treatment. How childish. Confess to me that you want information—_but_," he added clearly savoring it, "you must comprehend Director Hellsing that this…this is, how to say, very top secret. Classified! And confidential. All so 'hush-hush," replied Maxwell in a low whisper, his finger pressing against his lips.

The evidence was crystal clear—she needed something more concrete. More solid, but regardless, every possible avenue was a dead-end. There was little to nothing. Unfortunately Walter's memory wasn't the finest; nevertheless, he managed to recite some characters and events, especially the Major and the Captain. It proved useful. Alucard however…as always, proved difficult. The interrogation did not even last five minutes before a very frustrated and desperate Integra abandon all efforts. Despite threats and punishment, Alucard gave her nothing.

Besides asking assistance from his Holiness, the Pope would ultimately proved futile. The man believed that she like Elizabeth Tutor was a Protestant-whore and a vessel for the Devil's whim and seed, which was naturally ridiculous since she remained untouched, a virgin. Once, promising eternal-salvation, his Grace sent assassins into London, England to rid themselves of the impure Hellsing-Heir and hopefully have Britain under Vatican rule as it was before Henry XIII's infamous divorce from the church. Of course with Alucard eager for blood and mayhem, they were unsuccessful. On young-Integra's order, the remaining pieces were sent back to Rome and things had been disquiet since.

But this eager assistance from the Vatican naturally raised her suspicions.

And asking Enrico Maxwell was completely out of the question.

"Do you want to know?"

In a confident manner the Iscariot-member brushed the wrinkles from his priestly robes and readjusted his white-collar, smiling that leachy triumphant grin. He cleared his throat and said, "Regardless, we do possess a piece of information about the organization, co-named Millennium. More so than your…" he paused and added the insulting term, "_club_ could obtain and foremost have. No doubt you know, that once I returned from England I had such materials confiscated. I feared Millennium would want to erase all evidence of their existence, of their projects and of Order 666. My suspicious were right."

"Ah yes you were simply brilliant _Enrico_," she replied with her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You should praise me _Integra_." He reminded, "Poor girl, you stand on a desperate equilibrium and only I have the power to tip the scale. So…whatever shall you do?"

"Indeed," Integra agreed, gritting her teeth together.

"Apparently you are desperate, especially by your display in the Blood-Bar. I have obtained permission to share data with you." He leaned forward with a sardonic smile inched across his thin lips, the suggestive expression stretching ear to ear. "Want me to tell you? _Really?_ Is that what you really want, Miss Integra."

She felt her blood boil. Biting her lips Integra hissed hotly, "And pray tell me, whatever are you saying? Speak plainly. I haven't the time or patience for your idiotic childish games."

Maxwell's smile vanished. "The Vatican and Iscariot Section XIII, we are the instruments of God—the subjects of the divine punishment of Heaven. Surely it would such a abomination, a disgrace to help the likes of you—the fallen and demoted Sir Integra Hellsing." He stared at her, eyes bugling from the sockets, which plainly screamed I-know-something-you-don't know. "I want you to acknowledge our assistance."

"I can assure you, Archbishop Maxwell you have my utmost respect."

His face screamed 'liar,' so there was little need to actually say it.

The Iscariot-Director straightened in his chair and replied grimly, "That is not enough. Not nearly good enough."

Integra challenged, "Than inform me, what would _satisfy_ you?"

As soon the question left her mouth Integra regretted it.

He plainly expressed, "_Civility _Integra. Just well-behaved mannerisms. There is an important word required when you ask something of someone. _Please_…"

She protested, "Be warned, Catholic. You are abusing your authority and even the disadvantage of my disposition."

"Come now." He teased. "The situation is not bad. You can require top-secret information with just one word. And besides, you are in a position to be choosy."

Beats of silence followed.

The word whispered from her lips, "_Please_…"

"Very good, Miss Hellsing. Now that I have your attention we shall commence with the interrogation, and then and only then, shall I bestow such information."

And thus Enrico Maxwell spelled out the very existence of Millennium…

**OOO**

Then it was done.

Maxwell watched Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing hold the vanilla folder marked Millennium with clutching fingers as her eyes ran fanatically across each line, taking each minor detail with great consideration. This was _Millennium_, the group who sought the glory of a thousand year reign and plunged the entire planet into a world war—the Third Reich. It was back fifty years ago to World War II when large members of military personnel fled from Nazi Germany to South America where they found sympathizers, and raw materials to craft the Freak-chip. For further drama, the name Millennium referred to the project and the military unit who carried out the order—the Vatican itself.

_What horror! Horror!  _

These people tried to kill her, not once but three separate times. Apparently they were very determined in their goal, Order 666—War with the Count, and death to the Countess.

Archbishop Enrico Maxwell clapped his hands together once and proclaimed sweetly, "There Miss Integra, you have everything you shall ever need to known about Millennium. And it required only a single word of civility." He added, "Perhaps next time you find yourself in a dead-end, you should comes to us. _Pride is a sin_."

She glared at him and imagined ripping off his ponytail and kicking his severed head down the basement stairs. _If only_, she thought.

He reached down and plucked the document out of her hands, closing it with a loud snap. "Have I _satisfied_ your curiosity?"

"Yes…"

"My turn," he purred.

Of course, she too knew that there was no way possible to avoid this. "My interrogation," Integra noted evenly.

"It shall be short and painless." She watched his smug smile as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a mini recorder, and flipped the button. "Archbishop Enrico Orlando Maxwell…in the interrogation with one," he lifted his eyes at her and said deliberately, "_Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing_…over…the issues considered 'highest priority' by her Majesty, the Queen of England and his Holiness, the Pope. Very well, are you ready?"

Integra smirked at his idiocy.

"Iscariot and the Royal Order's concern is obvious—_Alucard_, this Midian of Old."

She hummed with little interest.

"First subject—your _association_ with Him," he said with distaste. "_Alucard_. What an odd relationship you two must have. I don't know if it is more intriguing or disturbing. There's hate, respect and _something else_," he paused deliberately. "He refers you as his _Countess_…surely you can see how such a lose, almost possessive title could be viewed as something," Maxwell paused biting his lip and searching for the perfect word, "_questionable_."

Sighing Integra shifted in the chair and answered bluntly, "Childhood nickname."

Maxwell studied her with piercing eyes. "You are no longer a child."

Integra just shrugged her shoulders impassively. "Well noted."

He waved his hand dismissively and asked, "For the record, define your relationship."

Integra said evenly, "We are _not_ lovers."

"That's not what I asked," Maxwell noted with a smile.

She challenged, "Isn't that what you want to know? Wouldn't that be delicious? How disappointing, it is nothing but rumor, I can assure you. I am his Master. It is…" Integra started with a sigh. A pause followed in which she tried to summarized their connection. Alucard played so many different roles it was hard to define them—a father figure, a mentor, comrade, slave, pet, friend, adversary and a possible lover. He would morph into whatever she desired. It was complicated, but something had to be said to satisfy the Royal Order. "It is different."

"_Different_?"

"Yes…" she hissed angrily.

Maxwell breathed, "Ten years of association and '_different_' remains your best most suitable explanation," Maxwell noted.

"_Complicated_, perhaps. Unstable. Strange." She quickly noted the skepticism in his face. "Perhaps my answer was not to _your_ liking. Did you expect something a bit more carnal? Something scandalous. Or sacrilegious?" Integra breathed in a drag and regardless of the smoky haze, her eyes flashed dangerously. "I could fabricate a beautiful lie if it would please you," she lifted the recorder-machine towards her mouth and whispered, "and for the Beloved Royal Order."

He smirked doubtfully.

"How dare you, sir!" She lashed out, rocking the recorder to the carpet floor and Maxwell watched her with dazed eyes. "What more did you expect?"

"I expect the truth and nothing more."

Integra laughed coolly. "I know your interrogation tactics Iscariot. You manipulate. You deceive."

Maxwell shook his head and warned evenly, "It would be in your best interest to stop this drama and answer the question."

"There is nothing to tell," she said grimly.

"There's always _something_, Miss Integra. Perhaps there is some sort of _attraction_," Maxwell mused. "I think he likes—wait," he interrupted and then corrected himself, "_fancies_ you, Integra. You might be his Master, but in his mind's eyes you are _his Countess_, and as I have heard _his equal_. I said before, that he kills for you. Plays for your attention. Taunts you. Everyone notes something in his eyes, haven't you noticed it? I could hardy see if you couldn't."

"_Lust_ would be more appropriate, Maxwell. He would love to kill me."

He paused before adding, "Or convert you. Have you ever thought about it—Immortality?"

Borrowing a line from her pet-slave she said, "_There's no such thing as eternity_."

"Again, you did not answer the question? Is it possible that you are purposely avoiding it."

Inhaling another puff of dark toxic fumes Integra laughed and replied, "He offers with anyone with an ear to listen. Be mindful Maxwell, he may come to ask _you_. Would you be tempted?"

Maxwell was silent after that.

"Enough of this. This farce bored me.' Her voice grew colder, "Thick skulls or pressing immatureness has led you to forget that issue is _my _burden, and certainly _none_ of your concern or responsibility."

Rolling his eyes Maxwell crossed himself twice. "Holy Mary Mother of God."

"Think Maxwell. Just _think_, even if the concept remains difficult. Alucard is blood-bond to the Hellsing Family, to _me_."

Maxwell hissed, "You and the No-Life King are connected, his servitude is bound to your life. You expire, and he is free. That is the Hellsing-Seal"

"Yes." _And no. _

He followed her statement with, "Surely you can understand our fear, Sir Integra."

Integra shook her head. "I can fully understand your ignorance."

Narrowing his eyes at her the Archbishop sneered, "No! That is hardly the case here. Imagine if you will, an Alucard free from bondage—"

"Do you honestly believe I do not think about that notion?" she snapped, and then allow the question to brew inside his mind. "If so, than you are a bigger fool than I originally measured. _That _weighs heavily on my mind every day. He would rape the land. Brutalize the people. Bathe in oceans of blood._ God forbid it_ _happens_."

Maxwell took a measured moment to study her and then muttered, "Whatever. It is your soul."

Integra blinked. "Yes…It is _my choice_."

"Pardon?" When she didn't repeat herself he continued fervently, "For the love of God and humanity—_kill him_. If not, than seal him away."

"A coward's proposition, Maxwell," she replied. "Should I hide the skeleton in my closet and approach it when I find it appropriate, or to my convenience? I believe I reached the point-of-no-return over ten years ago." She remained silent, apparently waiting. "Far too late for retribution."

Maxwell finally reached his conclusion, "So stubborn to the end. You will tell me _nothing_."

"I have told you enough," she mused.

"Which is nothing."

It was useless, like squeezing a rock for blood. A fruitless practice and nothing, not an ounce would come from it. Nonetheless it would be enough to please the Royal Order and her Majesty, but not the Pope. But, all good things to those who wait. And Enrico Maxwell would want. He exhaled sharply. "Very well," he said in a tiring voice. "There is nothing more to say—but there is one last issue to direct."

Integra coughed discreetly in her hand. "Which would be?"

Maxwell started again, "_Listen_…I know our hatred for them, the vampires is only measured against our…" he paused and then added, "extreme dislike for each other. However, this is hardly the time for this tiresome quarrel. Things are changing," he repeated again. "War is brewing...the feeling is thick. That terribly sense of foreboding dread. It is everywhere.

"And the _enemy of my enemy is my friend_."

"Whatever are you suggesting?" she asked cautiously.

"Lord Almighty…I cannot believe I am going to say this," a lingering pause followed and the blade fell, "an _alliance_."

"Partnership?" Integra quirked.

"Affiliation …association or whatever you wish—in exchange to erase all taints of your record. Your knighthood shall be restored…finances returned…of course; some Iscariot observation will remain for your benefit. If we are to survive this—"

"No," Integra said. "You want my help. _Say it_."

"Miss Integra…" Maxwell warned.

"Say it," she demanded with a puff of smoke. "Say it Enrico…say that you want me. Want my help."

"Yes. I want you—" he stopped and finished, "want your help."

Integra smiled. "How curious…"

TBC

Author's Notes

One more chapter to go—The Covenant comes to visit Hellsing and Iscariot. The Baroness brings her pet, who has something to say.

I love the sexual intention between Integra and Maxwell. Well, I have to go and study for exams. Nasty exams.

Ta,

Immortalis


	24. The Covenant

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing in any way, so get over it. Besides, like anyone has anything on . 

**Chapter Title**—_The Covenant _ 

**Rating**—PG13 to R

**Synopsis**—With Iscariot finally departing but still mindful of Hellsing Organization—Sir Integra and Alucard have a moment together, in which secrets and lies are exposed…

**Author's Notes**—Last chapter, or Part 1anyways!! I realized that I did not want a huge last chapter, so just have to wait longer I've decided to break it up. It flows a bit better. Enjoy. Trust me the ending has a nasty twist.

**READ THIS!!**—Listen up my readers, at the end of _Grim Forecast_/ Part 2—the final chapter—my next story will be chosen by majority vote. At the beginning and end, I will post the synopsis of the possible stories. Please vote. So whichever won, is the next one, so please pick your poison with along with your review. Of those who reply I will contact you the details of the winner**—READ THIS!!**

Ta,

Immortalis

**OOO**

**OOO**

It is said that we spend well more than half our lives just _waiting_. Waiting for _something_, or better yet, for someone. It seems like such a trivial thing and yet the practice itself governs every aspect of our existence. Some say waiting is a judge of patience but for Enrico Maxwell, it was a colleague to _murder_—However, surprisingly none had been committed between Iscariot and the Hellsing Organization. If one did not believe in miracles, now was a good time to start. Sure there was several more than comforting close calls—First, with Paladin Anderson and Alucard—then with the encounter with Millennium, thanks to Miss Integra's impatience and pride. Otherwise, it was a _half_-successful mission. _It could always be worse_, he reminded himself.

Now that the Royal Inquisition was "officially" terminated, new orders had been sent from Rome and the message was welcomed—_Return to the Holy See_.

_Home, sweet home_. Looking back at the looming and ominous figure of the Hellsing Manor, Maxwell realized that he would not be missing it; after all, it was a horribly depressing structure, and a constant playground for _them_, the vampires. Just thinking about it made him feel tainted—and now, he had lived in it for 7 days. Iscariot ate there and slept there. _And the confessions I will have to make_…he thought, dreading another trip to the confessional-box. _Damnation_, he thought, shoving his sunglasses further up onto the bridge of his Italian nose. _Wrath…pride…and of course, lust. _

Again, at least it wasn't a total loss. Iscariot now, more or less had some leverage against Sir Integra and the Hellsing Organization. Not much perhaps, but enough to play some advantage in future issues. It was evident that it was not over.

Finally he pulled his eyes away and observed Walter carrying their bags to the limo, and strategically organized them into one perfect puzzle, so everything fit and would remain so during the drive—such a task, took years of experience. The foul-mouthed Frenchman was standing next to Seras, whispering under his breath about the Eskimo Song, and other distastefully practices. Behind him he heard his comrades whispering under their breaths:

Heinkel coughed discreetly into her hand, as she looked about with sharp shifty eyes and swayed from one foot to the other. She rolled her eyes, scuffing the pavement with the heel of her army boot and whispered, "Political drama is such a waste. Give me an assassination any day."

Her sister-comrade taunted in a singsong voice, "Patience is a virtue, Heinkel. You always forgot that."

Father Renaldo, after fully recovering from the tea replied reassuringly, "Calm yourself, Sister Wolfe. There is a perfect assignment waiting for you in Rome. I understand it is cult fanatics, more importantly Wiccans in northern France."

"Maybe we can go to Paris," Yumiko offered.

Crossing her arms Heinkel hissed, "Anywhere but here."

Smiling, the nun with the thick black-frame shrugged her shoulders and replied, "It wasn't all that bad. It certainly could have been worse."

"You never think ill of anyone," her friend accused lightly.

She grinned reluctantly and confessed with rosy red cheeks, "Yumie does, _I _do not."

"I still want to go home."

"_All in good time_." Glimpsing at his watch, Maxwell heaved a sigh, and then just happened to glance up—and there she was—_Sir Integra Wingates Fairbook Hellsing_…and of course, standing beside was _him_, the Nosferatu Alucard with that terrible, insufferable Cheshire-grin stretched on his face. _Damn him_, he thought but his eyes quickly turned to Integra, who was wearing her typically fresh charcoal suit and red ascot. Maxwell wondered if her closet constitute of nothing but suits and ties; however, something told him that even the Iron Maiden would wear something promiscuous to bed, something distinctly feminine. _Perhaps, silk or lace. _

He watched Integra replied evenly as if the words came reluctantly, "I believe this is the parting of the ways, Archbishop Maxwell."

_Or perhaps, nothing at all_, he mused, smiling at the thought. "I believe it is, Miss Integra. It certainly has been a memorable moment, but I think it is safe to say that we do not wish to repeat soon." Standing besides the limo Maxwell said, "At least not until the Round Table Conference. Paladin Anderson is obligated to remain then…for your protection," he added looking deliberately as if his services lacked.

"Thoughtful, even for you," Integra replied evenly, "His services will not be needed."

Smiling he declared, "It was _not _an offer."

"Of course not," Integra gritted out between her teeth.

"Very well," Maxwell, knowing that it would grid her nerves, took a bow with his hand over his heart and gave her a smile had bordered the thin line between pleasure and pure loathing, or perhaps, it had been a mixture of both; nevertheless, it was not comforting. He reached out his hand to shakes hers, which she gave reluctantly. Flesh touching flesh, he mused, _Mmm…warm for the Ice Queen. _No doubting she was boiling inside, but she gave no inclination of it and besides, her grasp was like a death-like grip, as if Integra was attempting to break every bone in his hand. Maxwell winced under his breath hiding it well with another smile, but still, she did not release him. Instead the Director of Hellsing did something entirely different—she came closer. The Archbishop stiffened with interest as Integra Hellsing ambled forward, closer to him and flashed him a coyish smile. It was such an appealing sight. _So bright and attractive_.

Her voice brushed sensually over the air, "I believe I am indebted to your services, _Enrico_. As an Englishwoman I feel obligated to repay you, and I think I found the _perfect _remedy."

"Really," he asked with his voice brimming with curiosity. "How, _Integra_?"

A pause.

"By _this_, of course," she answered before slamming a fist into his jaw line. It felt like ton of bricks. His limp body slammed against the limo, sliding down, against his steel surface and crumbled down to the cobblestone driveway. Heinkel and Yumiko rushed to his side, murmuring their concerns and even special permission to kill the Protestant Knight. Maxwell was partially deaf to their words, since his emerald-stone eyes were settled on the object standing before him—Integra Hellsing. Smirking, he wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, and glimpsed down at the thick ruby-red liquid with indifferent—it certainly wasn't the first time he saw his own life-fluid, and he seriously doubt it would be the last, at least, by her.

"That is for the 'English sow" comment, you swine," she said and with a wish of fabric and brilliant blond hair, Integra returned back to the Hellsing Manor. **O**

**OOO**

**OOO**

Watching Iscariot depart Seras Victoria couldn't help but to suppress a sigh of relief. _Thank God, _she thought. Frankly, she didn't know if she could survive another 24hours with the Vatican guests under the same roof. It was like high school—_almost_, specifically that you were constantly looking over your shoulder and listening for whatever juicy gossip might wander in the halls. Now, she was tired from all the drama, but seriously doubt if the whole mess was over. _Perhaps hitting Maxwell wasn't such a hot idea_, she noted to her mentally. _But, knowing Integra, it must have felt good. _

Shifting her eyes very slowly, Seras eyed the only remaining Iscariot agent—Anderson.

"You look a bit nervous Father," she noted with a smile, trying to be friendly.

The Paladin gave her a you-cannot-be-serious look and smirked with a short laugh. "Ye think? Instead of returning home to the Holy See, I remain _here_," he said the last word with disgust. "My own purgatory."

"It won't be bad. It's only 3 three days."

But by judging his face, it was 3 days too long.

"Cheer up!" A hand clapped him playfully on the back and Anderson glimpsed over his shoulder to see that foul-mouthed, rude and heathen Captain Pip Bernadette standing beside him. He smiled from behind a smoking, cheap cigarette and his breath smelled like stale whiskery. Smiling like an idiot he said, "Come one Pop, don't think it as a bad thing. _You and I can_ spend some real quantity time together. Have some fun. Almost like a vacation from Archbishop Asshole and—"

_Shut up_, Seras hissed. _You are only making matter worse. _

"Archbishop _Maxwell_, you heathen. Maxwell!" Anderson corrected harshly.

Pip blinked and exclaimed, "It is now?"

The Police Girl stepped forward, crossed her arms and warned, "_Pippy_." **O**

He made a face as if he made caught wind of something sour. "Please my sweet, don't call me that."

Seras noted with a hint of pride, "Funny, you like it when you're drunk as a skunk."

He laughed and squeezed Anderson into a bone-crushing hug. "What a woman, eh Anderson? As my grandpa told me, 'Can't kill them, but must have them.' I love women. How can you not love those…" Pip hiccupped and added in a dark sultry tone, "red eyes, those juicy boobies, that beautifully round bottom and that don't-fuck-with-me attitude. Mmm girl, you are making me—"

Anderson wrestled out of his grip. He said, "Are ye drunk?"

"No," he confessed and then took another long drink, finishing with, "But this ought to do it."

Seras jumped in, "Ignore him, Father. It's Friday."

"What so special on Friday?"

Pip answered, "_Payday_. Now, I got an offer for both of you."

Seras and Anderson exchanged suspicious looks.

"Normally me and the Wild Geese go out and get some hookers and have some Fucking-flipping-fantastic-_fun_, but _not_ today. No. Today is special Anderson." Pip gentling maneuvered the Judas-Priest towards the rusty Ford Taurus, like some lost lamb and continued; "You know, I want to show you a night on the town. I hate London, but it has its perks. So get in the car and let's go to The Pussy-Wagon." Confused and perhaps uneasy, Anderson got into the car reluctantly but sat stiffly with his hands folded in his lap. Pip winked and shut the door. "A great night, buddy. I promise."

"Give me those keys," Seras snarled. She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the front passenger seat, with Pip howling the whole distance. "Just _what are you doing_?"

"Earning a fucking Oscar," he said as if the answer was clear. "Or taking orders."

"From who?"

"The Boss."

"Integra?" Seras exclaimed. The Police-Girl pondered that, _it certainly sounds like something she would order. Get Iscariot out of the way. _However, the idea of Pip supervising it was absurd.

"Yep," Pip answered with a nod. "The Covenant—or whatever it is—is coming to grant The Boss a visit. And the _Paladin _cannot be there." He plucked the keys out of her hand, tucking a loose strand of strawberry hair behind her ear, and his hand lingered on her cheek. It felt warm. His one amber eye studied her as a grin tugged playfully at his lips. Seras felt herself go red, despite her vampric condition, _You sure have your moment, Pip. No matter who few. _"I could fall for you, you know."

"I know."

"You coming, babe."

"Okay then—but wait, do you even know what the Pussy wagon is?" Seras lowered her voice and whispered fiercely, "It's a lesbian bar."

"I know," Pip declared, taking the keys and hoping in the driver's seat. "But that's the point."

**OOO**

**OOO**

The Café Garden of the London War Museum was relatively empty save but the two individuals sitting at the small round table, one with a steaming cup of Herbal Tea and the other, contents _unknown_—and perhaps, better left so. There was a slight breeze, warm and dry. The golden sun was beginning its long and time-staking descent. Behind it, the clouds were a collection of colors, blending and melting together into a canvas crafted by God himself. It was a painstakingly glorious and glamorous spectacle; but then a voice teased with a taunting tone, "Such a pity. So absorbed in work that you cannot even enjoy a lovely sunset."

Sir Integra Hellsing took in a ragged breath as she rolled her eyes at the immature and over-exaggerated drama her vampire-pet was displaying. Not that it was any different than his usual bitching; however, perhaps he was making up for lost time during the Royal Inquisition. Sometimes, it seemed that he had a daily quota of pestering his Master and a general deficient attention disorder. She lowered the London Esquire, peering over its edges, but her otherwise 'Glaze of Steel' did nothing to ruffle Alucard. Not that it was any different than 10 years ago…

Instead he only smiled, momentarily displaying his fangs and his ruby-stone eyes glittered in the sunlight, flirtatiously. She crumpled and twisted the paper, imagining it was his face. _If only_, she mused. Exhaling, she removed her glasses and rubbed her temples as she felt each throb of an approaching migraine. _God damn him_, Integra cursed knowing Walter did not companied them and therefore no aspirin would be available. No drugs. True, she could always send Miss Victoria to the pharmacy—_No_, she though wearily.

Integra opened her eyes. "You strain me so, Alucard and you know, I hate repeating myself. Again and again. This recent," she paused before adding with grim reluctance, "_alliance_ was not my decision. Her Majesty ordered this cooperation with the Vatican. We cannot afford pride and pettiness, not with Millennium lurking out there."

"Excuses. Excuses," he chastised harshly. There was a hint of sarcasm and anger in his voice.

It was an excuse and she knew it. "And pray inform me, Alucard—do you expect me to deny the Queen? Unfaithfulness is not a practice I find favorable. I have enough enemies on my plate, and I am no longer in a position to be choosy. My _Judas_," she gritted her teeth together and finished, "seems to have long arms."

"Yes, it appears so…whomever he may be."

"_He_," Integra noted deliberately. "You suppose the sex to be male."

Alucard shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and bringing his elbows to the table replied evenly, "I do not assume. You know Master, that I am_ no_ novice to betrayal…it is a man because, a woman would have succeeded."

_Yes_, Integra said to herself, w_omen are the most vengeance creatures_—as there was daily proof every time she looked into the mirror.

"I personally prefer to end this pointless charade, and all this political drama." He said leaning forward. "Therein lies an alterative, another solution to this madness. Abandon them to their graves. _Two against the world_, my Countess—"

Suddenly he felt something sharp poked through his britches, scraping his manhood painfully. Wincing loudly he glanced down under the table, only to find a Glock .45 pointing straight at his precious manhood and Integra holding it. Her face was stoic and expressionless, as always. Clicking off the safety and pulling slightly back on the hammer, Integra raised an eyebrow at him. It said _don't-even-think-about-it_. When she actually spoke her voice was harsh, "I would advise you from finishing that comment."

Alucard smiled nervously and joked, "I shall consider it."

"Make sure you do, slave. The nickname might have been intriguing for a time, and now you have worn the joke thin.' Integra jabbed at him causing him to whelp loudly and hiss low under his breath. Her sapphire-stone orbs brightened with sadistic pleasure and the slyest smile twitched playfully on her lips. "I think I have discovered your Achilles' heel, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes," he hissed painfully. "I believe so."

"Good," she said removing the gun and the No-Life King blew out a sigh of relief. "Funny that a man's most prized possession, is also his most weakest spot. For the moment, I encourage you to keep your remarks unspoken. There are enough rumors without your support. Keep your rod tightly secure," a paused followed before she threatened, "Or I shall be obliged to remove your impure self."

"Meaning?" he asked curiously.

"Snip...snip, my friend." Her fingers made the shape of a pair of scissors, and it was suddenly and perfectly clear what exactly she might be 'snipping' off. And you will carry your spoiled remains in a small jar."

Alucard smirked doubtfully and teased, "Do you honestly think a _small _jar could contain me, Integra?"

The Hellsing-Daughter laughed and it was a cool rich and crisp sound. "So like a man, exaggerating reality."

He smiled, fangs and all. "I suppose Captain Bernadette is rubbing off on me."

She hummed in interest. _He rubs off everyone_, Integra noted with a laugh. Smirking under her breath, she turned her attention towards her untouched cup of Oolong tea and stirred the murky contents. Lifting it up, she felt the stream rolled off her flesh and took a slow sip. _Not Walter's tea, but just as good. _It tasted fine, especially since it clamed her nerves. _Ah, almost as good as a cigar. _When Integra looked up, Alucard was peering intently at her—Master and monster stared at each other as the seconds of silence passed into minutes. Neither spoke but studied, observing the other.

Out of the blue Alucard asked, "How did you get into the Blood-Bar?"

 "Your friend Remus Greyback, of course." Tired of the game, Integra broke the silence, "I imagine if we are playing quid pro quo, I would say something. You know, I have something to confess."

Her pet blinked in surprise. "How frank, Master. A _confession_, what a wicked thing. Shall I call Archbishop Maxwell? I could catch him before he reaches the Atlantic."

Before taking a sip of her tea she said evenly, "_I am Protestant_."

"Good girl," he mused sweetly. "Well, don't hang me in suspense Master…"

Integra paused between sips and replied with playful reluctance. "I think I actually missed your company during this Royal Inquisition."

"Really…" He sat back.

"I have a minuscule _preference_ for _you_ over Maxwell," she confessed wiping her lips with a napkin.

_How interesting_, he reflected between them.

It was NO declaration of love, but _favoritism_. There was no romantic, sweet-hearted love between them. Love, would not even be defined.

Today on orders, Alucard wore a perfectly clipped white suit with a heavily starch shirt and ebony-black tie. His hair was sleeked up and draped down his back in a shinny cascade of darkness. A five o'clock shadow covered his chin and cheeks. It was special occasion—Iscariot had departed from the Manor and that alone was much cause to celebrate. _But_, besides that The Covenant had sent a most intriguing letter, informing that they were sending an envoy to persuade the Hellsing Organization to side with _them_, and not Iscariot. _Again, such a political drama_. Alucard could not complain, since he was given an extra Medical-pint for the trip and permission to accompany his Master. It was just _them_, like in the younger days.

However, deep in his gut he felt that there was more to this visit than what was said.

Straightening his collar, Alucard's thoughts turned to the leachy Director of Iscariot and at once, his upper lip curled in dissatisfied and dislike. Yes, _dislike_ since hate was such a strong word. "Ah yes…_Archbishop Enrico Maxwell_," he scoffed. As if being from Iscariot was not enough evidence. No. Maxwell stood out—He had a leachy smile, waxy complexion, and wandering eyes that more than often lavish Integra.

He replied grimly, "He lusts after you, Integra—priest or not. You know what they say about guys being mean to the girls they like…And oh my, does he _want _you."

"Funny, he said the same thing to me about _you_," she fired back.

He admitted, "_Fancy_ you, would be the more appropriate term."

She did not believe that, and the expression was written crystal clear on her face. "So lust is not in the equation."

"Not to his extent. His thoughts makes _me_ blush, Integra. Especially with what he has in mind to do this his Archbishop sash—**O**"

That was enough. Integra had no desire to known what thoughts lurked inside Enrico Maxwell's mind. In truth, it frightened her. There was always some unidentified look whenever he looked at her, examined her and thought about her. "Enough!" Integra hissed, "I have told you countless times—Stay out of my head and _other_ people's heads." Her mind was not his playground, and besides—vampire or not—it was not a comforting experience. He often wondered into _private_ places and Alucard boasted that he did so. _I have read your thoughts_. "I hate playing your games. _Mind-fucking me_, Alucard."

Of course, Integra was referring to the period after the surgery, in which he made her re-experience the tragic death of her father and their first ghastly encounter. It was hardly what any woman would dream about, but it was a remembrance of who she was, what she was—a Hellsing.

Even now she could hear this exterior voice, _I know you don't want to die tonight_.

"Not all of my games are terrible, Integra. We can have _some_ fun." He added thoughtfully, "I have always been a fan of _who's-the-better-killer_. I could be merciful and kind, Integra," he offered _again_. "If, _hypothetically_—that our positions would switch"

"Fat chance," she breathed.

Alucard placed a hand on his chest, over his heart as if it had been mortally wounded.

"You pain me, Integra. What makes you think so?

Integra gave him a _you-cannot-be-serious_ look, as if the answer was clear and obvious. She scoffed and said, "Whatever sick fantasies _you_ have concocted, they would be neither pleasant or even quick."

He clapped his gloved-hands together. "_That's my girl_."

Beats of silenced followed between them.

"I have been meaning to ask you something." The cup stopped coming to her lips, as that same question echoed, looming inside her mind. _Not again_, she pleaded. "Enhance your calm, Master. It is not _that_ question. I figured as long as we are on the subject of our favorite Catholic, I just want to know, how did it feel?" Alucard urged. "How did it feel to hit that son of bitch?"

Integra smiled.

"It was," she paused searching for the correct term, "_good_. Damn good."

Thinking back, Integra smiled at the memory. She could still feel the numb pain on her knuckles, just beneath the gloves. It was so unbelievably sweet that she could taste it and his expression but simply priceless—but, there were more important matters to discuss. The Hellsing-Daughter swore that she would get her answers, regardless of the cost. If she had to indulge his petty, pathetic distractions, so be it. "I wanted—" she paused taking in a deep breath and whispered low, "I have been meaning to discuss something with you. _Private_, you understand. No outside ears from Hellsing or Iscariot." Integra looked up and demanded, "How did you know about my…_malady_?"

It was Alucard's turn to smirk, which was actually what he did. It was that in-your-face look with just a hint of a Cheshire grin creeping on his pale thin lips. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, folded his hand into his lap and spoke condescendingly, "Ah…so this is what it has come to, Master? I wonder if there was some greater design for us being alone. It is not my company you want, but rather your attempt to obtain information from me. You know a pet does not bark—not without a _treat_. Not even a taste, Integra."

_Damn you Alucard. Damn you._

"Well, if you insist—I always had my suspicious since Edward."

Integra blinked and frowned at the name. Inside her head she whispered, _Edward_?

The No-Life King raised an inky black brow at her sudden confusion, but again, then everything feel perfectly into place. A rich mechanical laugh filled the Café Garden, echoing against the raging breeze and the darkening sky only intensified its menace. "Of course, of course. That's right," he purred with pure acid. "Abraham was such a proficient liar."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who is Edward?"

"Spare me that look, Integra. As I have said before, 'he was no saint.'" He paused allowing the truth of his words to sink in. "Hellsing paints such a picturesque portal of him…brave, wise and righteous. Self-denial amuses me. You have experience his…shall we say, fall from grace in its cruelty." Alucard sat up, leaning forward and beckoned her closer. "Taste your veins Integra, and tell me if you like my essence."

"I asked, who is Edward?" she asked again.

"You know him."

_Impossible_, she said. _Edward Morris Fitzwilliam Hellsing, is dead. He died years ago at birth. _

_Did he now? _Alucard asked with dark eyes.

"Yes…" she whispered suddenly with measured uncertainty. 

"Than let me tell you the beautifully constructed lie from your beloved, Great Grandfather. It was brilliantly convinced, when you really think about it. Sometimes he made me feel like a novice."

Integra practically growled, "Kindly get to the point."

Alucard leaned closer and his hot stale-blood breath blew in her face as he spoke. "Before Lionel Hellsing…there was _Edward_, his true first born-son. My next Master. But," he added sinfully, "Like _you_, Abraham was plagued by pride and duty. He had enslaved an Immortal being and now, was desperate to _contain_ it. Knowing his own approaching mortality, he had turned to unhealthy obsessions and questionable, most dangerous experiments on himself—mostly on his blood…and mine."

He paused.

"Of course this was _before_ Edward's convincement…and so all those perverse poisons were in his seed. He was born without difficulty but as a coming adult he had become _different_. I swam so thick in his veins that I am certain that he could taste it. Edward needed no sire—"

She interrupted, "What happened?"

"I killed him," Alucard said as if the answer was completely oblivious and clear; however, no doubt he would know what impact it might have on his master. "So now you know Countess…whatever shall you do?"

Tick tock…

TBC

Final Chapter—Grim Forecast. Finally! I am so happy to finally finish this thing. I write one-shots, instead of these epic length stories—but I cannot write anything short.

AN 1—"That is for the 'English sow" comment, you swine," she said and with a wish of fabric and brilliant blond hair, Integra returned back to the Hellsing Manor. **O--**I always wanted Integra to bitch-slap Maxwell, but he probably liked it too much.

AN 2—"_Pippy_." **O--**I figured Seras Would give Pip a nickname, something adorable and cute despite his profession. You know, how something prissy girlfriends might name their man's thing "Princess Sophie," and yet name their dog "Lord Kunn."

AN3—"Not to his extent. His thoughts makes _me_ blush, Integra. Especially with what he has in mind to do this his Archbishop sash—**O--**I knew a picture with Maxwell restraining Integra with his sash, as he smiles down at her, saying now-I-have-you and you-cannot-do-anything. It was wicked.

Ta,

Immortalis


	25. Grim ForecastEnd

**Hellsing**—Bloodlust

**Disclaimer**—I do not own Hellsing in any way, so get over it. 

**Chapter Title**—_Grim Forecast _ 

**Rating**—PG13 to R

**Synopsis**— 

**Author's Notes**—Last chapter!!

**READ THIS**—Listen up my readers, my next story will be chosen by majority vote. So whichever won, is the next one, so please pick your poison with along with your review. Of those who will reply, I will contact you the details of the winner. 

Ta,

Immortalis

Please choose one of the stories below with your review. Pick your poison.

**_The Dying Rose_**--At the London Opera-House, the members of Iscariot and Hellsing run into the Bloody Baroness...there the infamous Blind Seer tells the Paladin to save a child before her innocence is spoiled by the minions of darkness...

**_Christmas Music_**--A typical day around the Christmas Holiday at the Hellsing Manor.

**_The Dead Sleep_**--Sort of a post-Somniator. After the war with Millennium, Iscariot hears of the unexpected and violent demise of one Sir Integra Hellsing; however her corpse holds more than one surprise.

**_Crown of Blood_**--Integra Hellsing becomes a victim of a most curious stigmata. Is it the work of God or some unholy entity? Remember, even the Lucifer was an angel...

**_Two-Faced_**_--_Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, the agents of Hellsing find themselves betrayed and paired with lost-termed enemy, Iscariot...

Daughters of Eve

**OOO**

The last bit of golden sun had disappeared over the horizon and sky darkened, taking on gray, pale violent and blue tones. Soon afterwards, there was a chorus of crickets. The Daughter of Hellsing finished her herbal tea and just as the cup reached her lips, soft voice rose from the entrance of the Café Garden, and from the corner of her eye Integra witnessed The Covenant approached, taking each step with deliberate meaning and grace. Almost as if they choose the time and place. _Vampire pride of course, _mused Integra. Growling under her breath Integra complained openly, not even brothering to hide her rage, "About bloody time. I would hate to think I sent the Paladin away for nothing."

"Nothing?" Alucard quirked playfully with a smile, "If nothing more than the sheer joy of his misery." Thinking back on the musing if not disturbing image of Alexander Anderson sitting down at the Pussy Wagon, surrounded and trapped he could not hide his delight from his Master, who stared at him with mild curiosity. No doubt, deep inside her ice-old exterior, she too found it somewhat, if not a bit entertaining. No doubt that Enrico Maxwell would hear about it and then openly express his disproval to Integra later, but still, it was worth it. One might as well provide vengeances whenever possible. "I imagine that Captain Bernadette will be more than eager to inform of what happened."

Integra hid her eyes. Mumbling, she prayed, "As long as we don't get called to the scene. _Lord_, I can see the headline—Ravening Priest beheads Local Lesbians." Shaking her head, the Hellsing Daughter could visualize the article in the _London Times_ and the tabloid _Trivial Sun_. After all, only God above knows what the crazy, lucid and desperately needed anger-management priest would do. On the advantage, Seras Victoria was currently with them and supervising them, and was given expressed order to call her if even the moment of violence was possible. Surprisingly, it hadn't ring since the terrible trio drove away from Hellsing Manor. _So far, so good_, however in the pit of Integra's stomach she knew it might not be such a wonderful thing.

"Gob forbid it happens, and then, I'll never hear the end of it, and I blame it on _you_."

"Me, my Master?" Expressing his dismay, the vampire whined with a hand over his heart as if she was mortally wound him with such open and direct accusations. "I did _nothing_."

Suddenly, it seemed that "nothing" was his new catch-phase and Integra only prayed that it not permanent. She rolled her eyes and wondered why she never locked him up after she found him. From time to time—and sometimes more than often, he was more trouble than he was worth. Removing her hand from her eyes, Integra glared at him with eyes cold as ice dry and accused, "You have always been a rotten liar."

"Would you feel better if I was more proficient at it?" he challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Integra gave him the don't-fuck-with-me look and finished her thought, "You know very well what you did. You suggested it, knowing full well that the Frenchman would only be too eager to follow it through."

Sensing her fear Alucard reassured with a soft and calm voice, "_Nothing_ shall happen."

Again, there was that damn word…but business demanded her attention.

And then, there was the _Baroness Carmilla_ dressed in all her glory—red dress with an hourglass corset, a dramatic descending neckline that outline the fullness of her breasts and a long trail tracing behind her steps. Despite the elegance of her gown, she had taken the necessary precautious by dotingly herself with a steel chest-plate, which shield her heart from unfriendly fire, if they would be any. Pale as death her skin practically glowed in the night. Her fiery hair was elaborately pinned up into a golden diadem and with each movement of her head, the jewels shinned brilliantly in the moonlight and the beads jiggled together creating a strange harmony. Three comrades flanked by her side, equally dressed in their finest garbs and armored, armed no less; however they step no further once they saw the No-Life King standing like a obedient dog next to his _human_ master, no less.

Speaking out of the corner of her mouth Integra whispered, "I have a terrible feeling about this, Alucard."

"The Covenant is not stupid enough to attempt anything." His hand found itself on her shoulder, comforting and protective. Integra Hellsing exhaled a deep sigh and gripped his hand, giving it a squeeze or perhaps she was confirming that it was there, as well as the body attached to it. Alucard hovered near her earlobe and his breath trickled the hairs on her neck as he finished, "_I am here_."

"Somehow I feel that this is all a charade, some well rehearsed masquerade for some greater purpose, and it is not to align with the Hellsing Organization."

Smirking against her neck Alucard noted, "I would have to agree, Integra. Carmilla is known for her tricks."

"_Carmilla_!" Integra hissed the name under her ragged breath and glared at him over her shoulder. "Have we become personal with lost acquaintances," she added with a bit of salt, "and former _lovers_?"

At the sound of this Alucard abruptly removed his hand and asked with a gleam in his eye, "What is this? I have never heard that tone in your voice, not since I brought the Police-Girl home. Is that jealous in your voice?"

Integra released a small laugh and said before greeting her guest, "Don't flatter yourself, besides I would endanger your oversize ego."

Finally, at last the members of the Hellsing Organization and the Covenant meet face-to-face, or more importantly as two women—one as Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing and other as, the Queen of Illusions, Carmilla the Bloody Baroness. Reluctantly as if the actions were physically wounding her, Carmilla bend slightly at the knee, bowing and the words cut her tongue as she said the, "Greeting from The Covenant, Realm of the Old Ones, and the true Rulers of the Earth…we are _honored_ by your presence…Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing…"

Integra lowered her head but her eyes never left The Covenant and she said evenly, "And you as well Baroness."

The Baroness returned to her full height, a full head taller than Integra. "And…_Vladimir_," the redheaded maiden replied, lifting her ruby eyes to her once fellow comrade, and once lover. "How far thee has fallen, however I suppose that this is suitable for you…than I would be none the wiser to your tastes, no matter how unorthodox."

"Curious, hearing that from you," Alucard noted. 

"I expected to see you with your…" she paused before adding with vice, "_Countess_."

Integra corrected, "You forget yourself, Baroness. This No-Life King is my _slave_ and I am his _Master_."

"Or Mistress," she replied with slight ease. Without invitation the Baroness sat down in one smooth and fluid movement, gathered her hands in her lap and studied the Hellsing Daughter, with flashing red eyes. "I am not associated with frankness, Countess of Hellsing…nor of face-to-face confrontations in many years. Mortal or not, you can make no mistake as to why I am here."

Integra smirked doubtfully, shaking her head in disappointment and perhaps with a segment of anger. Tucking a blond strand behind her ear she replied in the coolest of tones, "You are gravely mistaken, Baroness. Regardless of the formalities of the message to convoy with me," she deliberate paused to heighten her meaning; "I can only assume your _true_ intentions for this visit. Hellsing and The Covenant are not the best of comrades…and I am finding little reason to form such a partnership."

Carmilla hissed a sign under her breath, _Ignorant, foolish mortal_, and she quickly masked herfrustration with a smile. Using a different approach she ran her finger across her blood-red lips and noted with a hint of malice, "It seems that Iscariot has romanced your loyalty and I hope you did not damage anything of possible valve, _Virgin _Knight of the Protestant Order." It was quite evident as to what might have been damaged, and when Carmilla saw the Hellsing-Daughter bubbled with rage, she could smile in triumph. _A point for me, my dear. _Back to business she continued still with the suggested, if not implied sarcasm, "However before alliances are permanently signed…in whatever _currency_, it might be in your best interest to lead a ear to The Covenant."

Still fuming with anger Sir Hellsing stated in shaking voice, "Very well, you officially have my attention."

"But _not_ mine," the No-Life King replied nonchalantly and quietly to himself. 

"It is quite simple. We wish to offer the Hellsing Organization _our_ partnership," she forced the words out, though she would rather rip out those sapphire orbs studying, examining her with mocked enthusiasm. Eyes are the window to one's soul, and yet Carmilla only saw the reflection of her reluctant self in the mist of endless sea of blue. The Bloody Baroness finished firmly, "That is the condition, _Countess_ Hellsing. Iscariot is not included in the alliance. You cannot afford to be petty with the price of human lives at hand."

"I thought The Covenant had no use for us," Integra said.

"Only when the harvest is ripe," she said with a smile full of fangs.

Watching them, Alucard could only muse to himself, _Hell hath known no fury…_

"The Covenant has had enough with Millennium," she added with a leer, "and with Iscariot. This rebellion is different from others and we both know that they are larger forces at work here than just the Third Reich. Neither of us can possible afford this strife…for the both of us is the risk of _exposure_. We cannot be known to the innocent masses. And we are—despite man's active imagination and consuming superstition, we are," she emphasized with a swell of pride, "_not _raging, blood-sucking demons. Much as changed since our younger days. The Covenant has established laws, and order to our ways. They, like yours have managed to keep us shrouded in myth, and we have no wish to endanger that refuge…however," her voice dropped, "these chipped FREAKS, hybrids are nothing more than babes…drunken with the false promise of glory and banquet. They have not the grace and self-control of the Old-Ones, the Nosferatus."

"Inspiring speech Baroness," he said dryly.

"You are of no interest," Carmilla hissed.

A mechanical laughter filled the air and Alucard taunted, "I know you too well Carmilla, as much I know the curves of your anatomy and the pitch of your voice. We both know that there is more to this than meets the eye. Just, what are you up to?"

The Baroness answered with a hint of truth, "Nothing more than playing out a personal vendetta."

"Against who?"

"_Millennium_, of course. They tainted us. Embarrassed us. Threatened to expose us. They have separated sire from childe—"

Integra noted with a degree of malice, "The young _Laura_."

Carmilla smiled, wetting her lips with her pink tongue. "Ah yes…you _are_ somewhat acquainted with my," she paused and then added each word with careful, gloating deliberateness, "lovely…beautiful…talented concubine."

"_Were_ acquainted," The Hellsing Director corrected sternly, "a moment too long."

Alucard patted the Jackal and said with a shimmer of pride, "Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust."

The Queen of Illusion was not so easily persuaded. "No, my girl…you _are_ acquainted. Her scent lingers on your skin, and I imagine that even yet, your neck prickles with her memory…and her _touch_."

She saw Integra visibly flushed pink and unconsciously gripped her ascot closer. Carmilla beamed with satisfaction, and she could almost taste it but to hum in ecstasy she replied in a low tone, "Know this, I taught her so that she would have pleased me. Both in word and in deed. It might as well been _me_." Watching the Hellsing-Daughter clench her fist and bite her lower lip, Carmilla felt as though she had tasted the finest blood, of that of a goddess. It was simply exquisite. However the Bloody Baroness as always craved for more, and never could distinguish the border between passion and obsession, or survival and bloodlust.

"Besides Alucard, that must have been frustrating—not to be the first to taste from her veins. Even I am somewhat jealous as well." And her ruby eyes ravished Integra with their hungry gaze, and because of her infamous preference for women over men; her thoughts were only clarified and verified.

Beats of uneasy silenced echoed between the two daughters of Eve but the Baroness felt the need to dig deeper and deeper yet.

"They call you the _Virgin-Knight_…and for a time, I believed it was because _no_ man would have you—but what a terrible farce. I see now, it is _you _who will have no one."

The Hellsing-Daughter replied evenly, "I imagine that you will kindly return to the point of your visit."

"Of course. The male sex is pathetic, wouldn't you say? However they do have their uses, no matter how few. My curiosity lies as to _why_? You are not short of suitors, but as it is, your womb must be filled. I know that love is not unique to humans. Men instinctively desire women, whether there is love nor not. It's preservation of the species, nothing more and nothing less. The question lies as to whom will do the deed?" Though her question was aimed at Integra Hellsing, her eyes and words turned to that of Alucard, as if she was telling him that.

"Perhaps you shall make use of yourself for being male yet, Vladimir."

Alucard laughed. "Undead sperm, **O **Carmilla? As if my testes produce anything that is remotely swimmingly. I believe we should ask you, my dear—after all, did we not have a tangle in the sheets?"

"Cry stop to your tongue, Vladimir—look you are making the virgin flush red," Pointing toward Integra Hellsing, Carmilla chastised him as if he was a child. "Before you are spoiled with a babe Integra…take a lover—as I hear Enrico Maxwell might to job justice."

Even Alucard seemed displeased by this comment, and that was her signal to take her leave. "Farewell…_Integra_," Carmilla purred placing a hand on Integra' shoulder and slipping past her and Alucard, who she gave a smile. To herself, a soft mechanical laugh escape her crimson lips and rumbled deep in her throat. "The devil with The Covenant," she hissed to herself, "Curse the Hellsing Organization and Iscariot. I want to know the end to this war, without waiting for it."

The as if she were displaying a rare exhibition in a circus, she waved her hands and parted to the side, further revealing the object—a single strand of hair, from the head of Sir Integra herself.

**OOO**

New Comrade 

Lost in a plume of smoke Integra replied evenly, "Come pet, let us go home." _What a disaster_, she thought. _And a complete waste of my time_. For a moment Integra thought she would prefer another budget meeting, rather than suffer with the presence and words of the Bloody baroness, or that of The Covenant. _An insufferable waste_. Nevertheless, on the positive side the question that had boggled her mind had been answered—to whom would she place her faith in, Iscariot or the Covenant? As if it mattered, both were backstabbing bastards and would soon as enslave, if no t kill her when the war with Millennium was done. But in the end, _Iscariot would suit. _Again she called out, "Alucard…"

The No-Life King stood extremely still with his eyes staring off into the distance, and not at only following the Covenant and their Baroness—but in the opposite direction altogether.

Integra repeated again, "Alucard…"

He did not even register her words.

"Alucard," she said again with her hands on her hips. "If you are ignoring me—"

"I think you have a secret admirer, Master."

"What?" The Hellsing Director blinked, surprised at the comment and demanded, "Whatever are you talking about?"

Alucard lifting up his hand and pointed towards the shadows—there was a young man with a Covenant collar around his neck, dressed in similar clothes that Integra sworn had seen earlier…and then there was the roadmap of scars decorating his body, especially along his wrists. He stood there, and finally stepped forward, closer and closer to them but especially towards Integra Hellsing. His blue eyes were solely on her and did not even register the vampire with the Jackal gun. At last, she remembered him—as it was the bartender, the young Concubine from the Blood-Bar. **O**

When he spoke his voice trembled with conviction, "I am Stephen Rhoades…" and then dropped to his knees and clutched the hem of her pantleg, placing a kiss on it. Lifting his teary eyes, the young man declared, "At your humble and eager service, Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. I am yours to do as you will…"

**OOO**

Deviant Divination 

At the House of the Covenant, Camilla entered her private chambers and at once her servant, Dabney took her discarded items and following with a head bowed asked with a hint of amusement, "The Covenant bas been buzzing with excitement since your return, and everyone is inquiring as to the answer from the Virgin Protestant Knight." Half listening, the Baroness took her new Blood-Concubine, a blond with eyes similar to that of her previous lover Laura—however, this one would not be given as much liberty and managed more closely so she would not stray. Grabbing her by the collar, Carmilla sat her down on the divan and toyed with her shimmering gold hair, ranking through her fingers and parting it like the Red sea.

Clearing his throat he reported, "Besides… Abhartach has demanded your presence."

Carmilla dripped her head down and kissed her lightly, but hearing this, her grip on the collar raised to another level. Turning on him she growled, "I have nothing to say to him or the remaining Covenant." 

He blinked. "Nothing at all?"

"Let Millennium, Iscariot and Millennium kill themselves, dig their own grave and pay for the funeral as well. I want that bitch's head on a silver platter." Bitch, of course referring to Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing. It didn't have to be her, but the Baroness was willing to take anyone in her bloodline, if any would survive this war. "If he should come, tell him the same. I am weary from the trip and wish to alone with my pleasures." However, Carmilla roughly tossed the Concubine to the marble floor and inquire with prying eyes, "Where is the girl?"

"You have impressible timing my Baroness, Abhartach…Giuseppe Davanzati and A'Dgosta all desired an audience with the girl."

"Pity for them. My question is of more importance than theirs."

Dabney heaved a sigh, slightly disappointment that he would be the first to receive any of the juicy news that everyone was so desperate to learn—no, there would be no news, for the Bloody Baroness did not to go to get an answer from the lips of the Hellsing-heir herself, but rather from the senses of someone else entirely. He gestured towards the figure sitting on the balcony and said, "Of course. She is here."

It was none other than the Blind Seer, and blind was obvious, for her eyes looked like two orbs filled smoke. Her eyes wonder about without rhythm or reason; however she was not seeing things in the material world but instead, in the Dreamworld. As Alucard noted, she was The Covenant's most prized possession, a Seer. Gifted, or better yet, cursed with the Inner Eye; however, her visions saw only the end of things…

And perhaps a glimpse of the beginning.

The Bloody Baroness stepped forward and cooed with unbelievable kindles, "Yvette…"

"The world is bleeding…_Bleeding_." Stopping in place the Seer hissed out a ragged breath, and her lithe frame swayed gently in the wind and the chains that bound her chinked musically in the night air. Both milky-white hands buried themselves in her bone-white hair, even as fingernails scraped her think scalp and hot, warm blood trailed down her cheeks like trails of tears. Her eyes rolled in the back of her skull, as her body twisted and twitched as some unseen force violated her conscious with visions that no soul—or lack thereof, should ever see, breathe, feel and hear. Rocking in place Yvette moaned, "Bleeding."

"Shall I remove her from prying eyes?"

Carmilla smirked and said, "No, my friend. She is so sickly pale, perhaps the reflection of the moon ands stars will add some glow to her skin."

Yvette hummed a tune under her breath, some melody and dropped to the floor with her eyes closed and one ear touching the cold stone, as her voice dropped into something otherworldly, "_I feel it bleed_…So much fear…so much doubt, and _madness_. We are bleeding and falling…_into the abyss_."

The Bloody Baroness approached, gathering her robes closer and studying the creature as if it were some strange, never seen before phenomena. She watched her with mute interest. "I have something for you, my Yvette. A present."

She recoiled, mumbling incoherent things under her breath. Gasping she pleaded, "No more. I want nothing, just nothing."

Carmilla promised as she always did, "One last thing."

Sobbing, Yvette lifted her dead glaze toward Dabney and pleaded, "_Kill me_. Kill me. I want to sleep. Feel nothing. Kill me."

Dabney swallowed and quickly turned away.

Holding the single stand from Integra' head Carmilla taunted with a leer, "One last thing." Sobbing, Yvette reached her hands out, groping the air and plucked the blond strand out of her grasp. The Baroness inched closer. She whispered fiercely against her earlobe, careful not to touch her skin to skin, "Yvette, my Love…what do you see?"

"Lavender and smoke," she whispered thickly.

"Nothing else," Carmilla demanded urgently.

Yvette smiled, "Nothing else."

**OOO**

What the Future Holds

Once the Baroness had disappeared into the private chamber with her Blood-Concubine, Yvette stopped sobbing abruptly, wiped away the well-rehearsed tears and stood to her feet with the hair still in her hand. She leered defiantly at the figure behind the door. "I see your demise, Carmilla. Long overdue," she said with a throaty growl.

Pausing in her anger she glazed at the strand with a strange new expression, one of bewilderment and then one of anxiety. Yvette stroke the hair as she did once with a friend and perhaps lover, —_Rhoades_**O**, and clutched it close to her chest.

As vision came to her mind she said in a strong, even voice, "Virgin Protestant Knight…Hellsing-Heir…Daughter of the Hunter…Ice Queen…and _Countess…Salvation_ lies in the future fruit of _your womb_," Yvette whispered low and mystic. The words were clear, and their meaning foreshadowed the ominous, grim future lying on the other side of the approaching dawn: But then her voice turned cold as ice and carried a degree of malice, "Careful as to _who sires_ it."

THE END

Bloodlust is officially over, not please choose one of the following stories for next time.

**_The Dying Rose_**--At the London Opera-House, the members of Iscariot and Hellsing run into the Bloody Baroness...there the infamous Blind Seer tells the Paladin to save a child before her innocence is spoiled by the minions of darkness...

**_Christmas Music_**--A typical day around the Christmas Holiday at the Hellsing Manor.

**_The Dead Sleep_**--Sort of a post-Somniator. After the war with Millennium, Iscariot hears of the unexpected and violent demise of one Sir Integra Hellsing; however her corpse holds more than one surprise.

**_Crown of Blood_**--Integra Hellsing becomes a victim of a most curious stigmata. Is it the work of God or some unholy entity? Remember, even the Lucifer was an angel...

**_Two-Faced_**_--_Sent to Japan on a diplomatic task, the agents of Hellsing find themselves betrayed and paired with lost-termed enemy, Iscariot...

**Author's Notes.**

1. I feel incline to tell you that Integra is **not** pregnant at the moment.

2. Undead sperm **O—**I got part of this line from StuidUndRetarded on Youtube. They are funny as hell.

_3. Rhoades **O**_—You have not seen the end of him. He becomes sort of a liaison between The Covenant and the Hellsing Organization. Iscariot really doesn't know what to think about him. He won't be a main character, but just someone who pops up once in a while with answers. Yes, he does have a history with Yvette and it plays a role late in the road.

4. Yes, who will sire it? That is the question. Tell me what you think and if you are close I will tell you .

Ta,

Immortalis

P.S Please VOTE!!


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